Over Tea Leaves and Coffee
by formerlyknownasone
Summary: You seem to believe entirely too much in coincidence," Draco winked at her. A DMHG story. Read and Review.
1. Over Coffee and Tea Leaves

**You guys should be really proud of me. Here I am, saying I will update a chapter this week, and I actually wrote twice. Bravo to me.**

**This is my very brave venture to a slightly longer DMHG story. It's not going to be too long or anything, but it will have at least several chapters. **

**Let's see how you like it. It's a bit different from the usual characterization though. **

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**Chapter One – Over Coffee and Tea Leaves**

Sometimes things are best simple, you know.

She likes things that way.

Simple, that is. She was not one for fuss or complication. Her hobbies didn't include rock climbing or skydiving, and she generally preferred not to do risky, complex activities that were life-endandering. (She rather enjoying living a simple life thank you very much). She didn't used to be like that of course, but people change all the time.

No, really, she was a simple person. She doesn't go around being all flashy or flamboyant, nor did like holding important positions. This was, in fact, probably one of the reasons why she didn't accept a high-salary Ministry job like what her fellow peers thought she would have done.

True, that's what everyone expected of her. There was a time she herself thought she would do something like that. But that was all in the past. Now, she would like to be nothing better than her present job.

It was a Tuesday morning in Muggle London, and a rather fine day at that too. The sun was shining perfectly, with just the right amount of wind and rays of sunshine rested on the rocky little streets, making them shine ever so brightly. Puddles splashed slightly from the uneven streets as people passed by in a hurry, and the sound of radios, cars, bicycles could be heard in any direction.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

It was hardly unusual to see then, to spot a young lady sitting by in a small cafe, sipping her drink and reading a novel. In fact, it so happens that this lovely sihouette always sat in this corner of the cozy little cafe everyday, right in the heart of Muggle London.

This beautiful lady sat alone at the table by the large glass window, where streaks of sunlight entered the room. Her long brown hair was simply pulled back by a large butterfly clip, and she appeared to be absorbed in reading a book. So interested was she that her sparkling brown eyes never left the page, except perhaps for that split second when her slim hand turned to the next page. Her lips occasionally curved into a lovely smile, and rarely did a frown graced her features.

She was dressed rather simply too. Today she was wearing a plain white off-shoulder blouse, and a long flowered skirt. She didn't usually wear much embellishments, or any ornaments,but today a thin silver necklace hung around her neck. She sat at the red vinyl seat by the window, reading with much interest and enthusiasm, as several of the passerby turned to give the lovely brunette a quick admiring glance.

Presently this slim figure caught the eyes of a man, who stood across the street, glancing through the window. She didn't register his expression of surprise, nor did she catch his bemused expression, being too much absorbed in her reading to pay attention to anything else. She lifted her porcelain cup of coffee, bringing in to her lips, where she sipped and enjoyed the strong, bittersweet aroma and taste of coffee. Unconsciously one of her hands toyed with the sugar bin on the table, as she licked the rim of her delicate little cup.

The man crossed the road, a smirk spread across his features. The avid reader had yet to notice the blond gentlemen staring at her intensely and perhaps a little too interestedly. After a moment or two this man tapped the window pane twice, and yet the young lady's head did not turn. He sighed.

She heard a sudden faint tinkling of bells, indicating the presence of someone entering the cafe. Any other time she would have turned her head to take a look, but really, Ambrose Bierce was just so interesting. She ignored it, just as she had ignored the increasingly noticeable footsteps that seemed to be getting louder and louder, unable to tear herself away from her book. Finally a shadow eclipse and blocked out the sunlight, forcing her to turn away from her book. She looked up, slightly annoyed, and her cool gaze met a familiar pair of grey eyes.

"Draco," she greeted.

He was much improved. Before her no longer stood the foul-mouth boy she knew at school, but a handsome respectable man. He had finally given up on his hair gel, and had changed his haircut. With his crisp white shirt and long dark trousers, he looked impeccably neat and gentlemen-like, something he definitely _wasn't_ in his school days. Yes, he still had that pride written all over his face, and he had not lost his arrogance, but it was merely softened into an air of confidence.

She didn't know what to say to him, except perhaps how impossibly _good_ he looked.

The man laughed at her as he slid into the opposite seat. "Hermione Granger, surely after one and a half years you would be able to give me a better greeting?" He shot her a roguish grin, and laughter escaped her. The ice was broken, and she relaxed.

"Well, at least I know that after one and a half years, you finally learn how to call my name." She replied, putting down her beloved volume, now finding more interest in him than books. He grinned again, shrugging his shoulders.

"Figure I might as well learn."

"Ah."

"You know, its common courtesy to ask the person opposite you if her or she could join you."

"I believe you already done that." She said with a brief smile.

"Ah."

He grabbed the menu nearby, and started flipping through its contents. "I think I shall have a drink shall I?" Draco flipped and stopped to another page, before proceeding to the next page. "What shall I have?" He said, rubbing his chin. It was the type of question no one really expect an answer to.

Hermione just raised her eyebrows, cocking her her head as she observed the young man opposite her.

"You are observing me, Miss Granger." He commented, not bothering to glance at her.

"I'm fond of watching interesting people."

"So you think I'm interesting."

"Tell me, what would you think if somebody who used to be your so-called enemy suddenly have decides to have a drink with you?"

At this Draco look up, a let out a deep, long laugh.

"I would say be careful with your coffee." He finally said, wheezing from all the laughing.

"That's why I'm not touching the sugar bin."

"Which sounds better, Earl's grey or Darjeeling?" he asked, expertly changing the topic.

"Why not try the coffee?" Hermione recommended.

"No thanks. I'd rather have tea."

"Up to you. If you ask me, the tea sounds rather bad."

"I will take my chances then. How bad can tea be?" With that, he motioned lazily for the waitress to come over.

"I would like the Earl's Grey tea, please." He said to the waitress who had rushed over.

"But sir--" the waitress began, her eyes wide and darting looks to his lovely female companion.

"Give the tea to this man. He rather take that than coffee." Hermione told her, and with a nod, the waitress hurried away while scribbling on her pad.

"Rather a strange place to meet you isn't it?" Hermione began, curious to find out why on earth was would Draco Malfoy be here.

"What do you mean?"

"You are the last person I expect to meet _here_."

"Again, I have no idea what you are talking about." He said quizzically.

"I thought it would be the last thing on your list to visit somewhere Muggle."

Hermione had spoken rather hesitatingly, fearing that she would offend her companion, but again was surprised by his reaction. He smiled widely, and his grey eyes twinkled.

"I thought my stand on the war proved otherwise." Draco said merrily, gazing at her.

She had to admit that was true. But his sudden reappearance had shocked her, and she hadn't seen him for so long. Perhaps he changed.

"What have you been doing then, over these years?" he asked Hermione, seeing that she was speechless.

"Not much. Traveling really. I have been to several places. South of France mostly, I guess, enjoying the sand and beaches."

"Yes. The sea air has done you much good." He said approvingly, glancing at her and nodding. What did he mean by that, she didn't know, but Hermione didn't think more about it. Instead she spoke.

"What about you?"

"Me? Well, about the same too I guess. Traveling, a bit for business but mostly for leisure. Italy, Spain, Argentina, Columbia... But now I am settled down here."

"Ah, yes. I've been there too... Wonderful coffee." Hermione said, reminiscing her past few months, absently sipping her cup of Columbian coffee. She had enjoyed her few months of traveling. She was interrupted though, by the reappearance of the waitress and Draco's order.

"Your tea, sir!" she squeaked and practically run away. Draco looked puzzled.

"She seems terrified of me."

"I thought everyone was supposed to be terrified of the Malfoys." She said coyly.

He laughed again.

"True," he said, " Except you," he added as an afterthought.

"Let this cup of tea be my treat then, as a punishment for my lack of cowardice."

"With pleasure." Draco agreed, and lifted his cup.

"No sugar? It helps with the taste."

"No, I prefer it unadulterated.."

With that, he took a sip of his tea... And spat it out. Hermione burst into peals of laughter.

"You spiked it!" He accused, pointing a finger at her.

"I didn't." She replied, unable to suppress her smile.

"The tea taste so bad!"

"You say, and I quote, _'How bad can tea be?'._"

"How on earth did you know that the tea would taste so bad!" he sputtered.

"I should... I own this place."

It was now Draco's turn to look surprised.

"You... own this place?"

"Yes I do. And to be fair I warned you the tea was bad."

"You ownthis place, and you still allow the tea here to_ taste bad?_"

"Well not on purpose, of course. It just so happens there had been a slight mishap at the tea leaves shop. Seems they mixed up our orders and we ran out our usual. Besides, I'm not much of a tea chooser." She explained to him, sighing.

"No wonder you offered to buy me tea. You _own_ this damned place."

"I thought we already went through that. Yes, I _own_ this place."

"I always thought you would end up working in the Ministry or something." He said in awe.

She frowned, and stared into her coffee while swilling her cup.

"It isn't the place for me." She just stated, wishing to elaborate no more.

"Ah, too much stress?" A familiar grin now replaced the shock on his face.

"I aim for simplicity."

"I too, do not covet working at that sort of environment. Office politics don't seem to agree with me."

"You worked in the Ministry?" Hermione asked, looking up once more.

"For a while. But then the janitors weren't very happy with me and they threw me out." Draco said while leaning back in his seat, seemingly happy about his plight.

Strange. Years ago Draco Malfoy would have thought that no one _dared_ to fire him from anything, yet now he didn't even seem to care about it. Then again, no one in the Wizarding World could have imagine the both of them sitting down together and have a civil conversation, let alone laughing.

So maybe miracles do happen.

"The janitors?"

"Yeah. Apparently it doesn't look good with the department if you keep making the toilets explode."

"You sound almost like Fred and George." she commented suspiciously.

"Met them a couple of times in their joke shop. Thriving business, I must say. Borrowed a few of their ideas now and then," Draco said, chuckling.

"So what do you do now?"

"Dealing with artifacts."

"I heard it brings in big money." She said wisely.

"It's more of a hobby really, not that I needed the money. But I don't like to idle you see." he replied.

Hermione felt her respect for Malfoy suddenly increasing.

"Pass the sugar and milk." He suddenly told her, breaking her of her thoughts.

"I thought you _prefer it unadulterated_," she mocked, unable to hold a smirk.

Draco glared at her as she passed him the sugar and milk. She couldn't resist saying that.

"How are Weasley and Potter ?" he started politely, dumping liberal amounts of white sugar and milk in hopes of disguising the taste of his drink.

"I thought you said you worked in the Ministry."

"For two weeks."

"Harry's an Auror now, you know. One of the best in his department. Ron... Well, he's middling along in the Improper Use of Magic. Still doesn't understand why students can't play around with their wands in the summer break. "

Draco rolled his eyes. " Typical." he muttered, before downing his tea. " And you, the smartest one out of the lot, are down here selling coffee while your friends are having high-post jobs."

"Yes, there's nothing wrong with that is it?" She said defensively.

"No. In fact I like you better this way." He replied, winking at her.

"Glad that you approve." She said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Now I must go, seeing as I have some unfinished business to do." He stood up, and drank the remaining dregs. " Lovely to see you down here."

"Now I can finish my book in peace."

"Wonderful book that one is. He is an interesting writer."

Hermione stared at the slim volume. He read it? He read something Muggle?

"You surprise me Malfoy." She told him, shaking her fine head.

"As always."

"Thank goodness you will be gone."

"Oh no, Hermione, oh no. You are not getting rid of me so easily, even if you want to." Draco said, smirking directly at her, giving her a last wave as he swung open the door. " Oh, and the next time we meet, let's hope you can find some decent tea leaves."

And with a wink and a swish he was gone, and the last Hermione saw was him crossing the busy street before disappearing among the crowd. She turned back to her book once more.

Her cup of coffee was now empty.

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	2. A Pair of Old Fashioned Glasses

**I hope I didn't take too long to update this. Thanks for everyone who reviewed, and keep supporting this story to keep it alive! And for my new readers, enjoy this fic and do your part by reviewing both chapters!**

**And so the story goes on **

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**Chapter Two – A Pair of Old-fashioned Glasses**

It was a Wednesday, and the weather was being just so _unpredictable_. Actually, the weather on Wednesdays always seems to be unpredictable. It had been a little blowy early in the morning, with a light gust in the wind. Then it became a little too hot, then there was a light drizzle of rain, followed by a shower from the skies at noontime. Finally, by three o' clock, it settled on a bit of sun, and just the slightest amount of breeze to make the whole weather comfortable.

Of course, with such horrid, random weather, one would hardly know what to expect next. Would it shine again, or would there be another thunderstorm? Nobody knew, and it was therefore rather hard to decide what to wear on such dreadful weather.

One young man was facing such a problem. He had been deciding what to change into for the past half hour, and had raged a war between him and his wardrobe. At first he put on a yellow plastic raincoat, before deciding that he looked silly and replacing it with a fishermen hat over his blond head. But then the rain stopped, so he took off one of his heavy coats and wore a breezy shirt. That was before he discovered there was a rather large hole on it. Finally he gave up, and he left his apartment defeated, holding a sleek umbrella in one hand and hiding a pair of sunglasses in the pocket of the light jacket he put on.

Tramping down the uneven streets Draco crossed the road and headed northwest. Swinging his umbrella in his hand, he continued heading in this direction for couple more minutes, before turning right. This was not a turn he usually made, not until two weeks ago, and yet he walked on so naturally it seems as if nothing was wrong.

He would have walked on further, had he not spotted a familiar curly head bobbing ahead. The brunette was wearing a red little hat, with little knitted flowers pinned on to her beret. She had smartly put on a tan light coat, where he could see the outline of a long, rod-like object in her pocket. _Wand._ She had swiftly entered a grocery store, and, patting the pocket of his jacket, Draco followed her in.

He however, saw no sign of her in there. It was rather crowded, and he saw no trace of her in the store. Twice he thought he caught a glimpse of her in the Tea Beverage aisle, but then when he turned to look again, the little curly head was gone. After checking out the ham counter and grabbing a home-made cherry pie from the bakery section, he paid the cashier four pounds twenty and left, thinking he must have been mistaken.

As he exited the shop he saw the cheerful red cap a street ahead, and he speed up to catch up with her. He saw her stop in front of a dusty little bookstore and peering at the display. And then, as if after a moment of hesitation, the girl entered, not before looking sideways to see if anyone noticed.

This of course caught his attention and he hurried to catch up. He paused in front of a little shop called Harris, and he tried to make out a female form through the window.

He spotted her immediately, near a corner shelf, and found out the reason why she was so worried someone would see her--She looked slightly different from what she looked moments ago. It was not only the presence of a bulky brown grocery bag that she was currently carrying that made her look funny. Besides the funny red beret she adorned, she had added another ornament on herself—a pair of glasses.

It was one of those slightly old-fashioned type of spectacles. It was horned rimmed, with thick round lenses, and a slightly thick frame to behold. Draco could see her pushing up those horn-rimmed glasses as she studied a large book interestedly.

So Hermione Granger was short-sighted, he thought, smirking only a little as he entered the bookstore. Bowing to the shopkeeper, he crept behind her, careful to make any noise against the squeaking wooden planks.

He succeeded with major success, for the brunette had not even taken notice of him. She was much too absorbed in books to care. Typical of her, he thought. She was just finishing scanning some heavy volumes on Ancient Runes and Mythology did she hear a rather deep (and amused) voice.

"Still into books I see."

She jumped, surprised from the sudden introduction of noise. Turning around, her heart still jumping ever so slightly, she was greeted with a sight of the young blond man. Not exactly a very pleasant sight, she decided, but not an unpleasant one either.

"Draco." Hermione acknowledged.

She would remain nonchalant about his presence, if not for the fact her glasses were slipping off again and she adjusted it. It was then she realized that she was wearing her _glasses_ in front of Draco Malfoy, someone that she knew, and that they were rather awful looking on her. No one had seen her in a pair of glasses, not even Harry, and she suddenly became very self-conscious, and blushed as red as a poppy.

Draco had a vaguely bemused expression on her face, observing the girl opposite him with much amusement. She glared at him as she shoved the book back into one of the lower shelves.

"It's the glasses that you find funny, isn't it?" She asked, facing him.

"I never saw you in one."

"No one ever has. I try not to let anyone see me in them." Hermione sighed, leaning against the wall. Imagine being caught wearing her glasses!

"You are short-sighted?" Draco questioned, laughing.

"Rather obvious answer."

"You feel embarrassed wearing something like that in front of me."

"How would you feel if someone caught you wearing a pair of glasses that makes you look hideous?"

"Extremely good point."

"It's dreadful to wear them." She agreed in dismay, but no longer feeling as uncomfortable as she did a few minutes ago.

"You do oddly magnified in them. Actually, it reminds me a bit of Professor Trelawny." He told her honestly, knowing that the bespectacled girl had a great dislike for the Divinations teacher.

"I feel awful enough as it is, Draco," Hermione said testily, knowing that he meant to touch a nerve.

"I must say, you look rather charming in them."

"I'm going to continue browsing, if you don't mind." She nodded in the direction of her trustworthy books, whom she felt sure would never tease her about her glasses.

"Not at all. And I shall do the same too." With that, he disappeared behind several shelves.

Hermione spent the next fifteen minutes in peace scanning through several books, before taking a look at the clock and deciding that it was time for her to get back to her café. Remembering that Draco was still in the bookstore, she began searching around for him, at last finding him at the back of the store.

The sight of him surprised her again. He was fervently reading a thin volume of William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_, and looked rather absorbed with the play. It was not just his apparent love for great muggle literature that rather shocked her though. Draco Malfoy was also wearing a certain thick-framed old-fashioned glasses, rather much like the one that _she was wearing_ right now.

The _same thing_ he had been teasing her about moments ago.

"You wear glasses!" She hissed at him after he fondly put down the beloved volume, and two of them proceed to the exit.

"I never said I didn't," He replied smoothly as they left the store, opening the door for the angry lady, who feelings were slightly ruffled.

"You teased me about mine, and yet you are wearing a pair too!" Hermione told the man, who was pushing up his spectacles.

"I rather enjoy teasing you."

"You wear glasses!"

"I can see that."

"You wear glasses!" She repeated, but with a hint of smile on her face now.

"I dare say, you look much happier now that you see someone wearing the same awful glasses as you."

She was.

"It is so much better to see someone wearing the same hideous thing as I am, believe me! You can't tease me anymore, for you look rather funny yourself." Hermione admitted, struggling with her heavy bag of groceries as they crossed the road.

"Perhaps the reason I wear them is to make you feel better." He answered, looking at the grinning Hermione.

"Nonsense. You are a Malfoy. You wouldn't try to look ugly on purpose."

"True." Draco said, nodding.

"How dare you tease me then, for wearing glasses, when you are wearing one yourself!" She scolded playfully, teasing him back.

"Well, it was rather funny at that point of time." He replied, shrugging.

"I can't believe you tried to mock me about it!" She said, huffing.

"Like you are now?"

They had walked down several streets, with Draco taking long easy strides and Hermione trying to catch up. But her grocery bags were just too heavy, and it took her all her might not to struggle with them.

Draco may not have perfect eyesight, but he noticed his companion having trouble carrying her groceries. She was puffing, and definitely looking tired, though she tried not to show it. Seeing this, he chided himself for being so inconsiderate, immediately offered to carry her bags.

"You need help."

"Oh, it's okay! I can manag--"

It was no use though. The blond man had already relieved her hands of her brown bags, and she felt much lighter without all those weight burdening her. She wanted to protest, but the man was already strolling ahead, determinedly carrying her groceries.

"Thank you." She said politely to Draco.

"Not a problem. I can recognize a struggling lady when I see one. You just hold on to your red hat." He said, looking up at the sky. The wind was getting stronger. They continue to walk down the streets in silence.

"You know, you are the first person who seen me in these glasses." She said suddenly.

"Well, that makes the two of us."

"Really?" She asked, amazed.

"No, I walk around in these all day long." He told her sarcastically, rolling his grey eyes.

"I guess I have to let Harry and Ron see me in these sooner or later. My, what on earth will they say!" Hemione sighed, cursing the said glasses as they turned the bend.

"Harry wears them," Draco pointed out.

"But he looks nowhere near as bad as I am in them."

"I beg to differ." He muttered under his breath.

"Anyway he wears them all the time. Everyone is used to it."

"You should. Ouch, your bags are heavy. No wonder you looked as if you were struggling just now." Draco complained, re-adjusting the grocery bags, shifting its weight.

"I only bought a couple of cans of baked beans and corned beef and some vegetables. They're for dinner over the next couple of weeks." She told him.

"Why can't you just bewitch them to become lighter anyway?" He muttered, eyeing her right pocket which carried her wand.

"_Muggles_, Draco, you forget there are Muggles all around."

"But my dinner is not even_ that_ heavy." He grumbled, which earned him a poke from her.

They had reached her café sooner that they thought. They were at the entrance, and he had passed her those grocery bags. She muttered a word of thanks, and the both of them stood around the door awkwardly. Should she invite him? Thank him for his help? She didn't know what to say.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked her quizzically, and, without another word, he went in.

She rolled her eyes and stepped into the café. Looking around, she found him in a corner booth, reading the menu. She took a seat across him, and he looked up.

"Any drinks for you?"

"What do you recommend?"

"Coffee."

"Then that's what I will take." He said, closing the menu.

"No tea?" She asked, smiling evilly.

"No thanks. I saw you in the tea section of the grocery store today and I concluded that you didn't buy any." He scoffed.

"Smart. Two coffee, please" Hermione called out to one of the waitresses, who nodded back.

"You know, you really should stock up on some good tea leaves. I know a decent shop down the road from here. Reasonable rates. What would happen to those poor people who only like tea?" He said as the waitress set two cups in front of them.

"They will have to make do, then."

"What excellent service you have." He commented dryly.

"My pleasure. What's in your bag?" She asked, indicating to the little brown paper bag he had been carrying.

"Cherry pie." He replied, taking a couple of spoons of sugar and adding them into the coffee.

"What's it for?"

"My dinner." He took a sip of coffee. "Nice."

"No kidding!" She exclaimed, looking at the bag again.

"Nothing but the truth, Hermione."

"You weren't kidding when you said your dinner was lighter than mine, were you?"

"Nope." He said, chuckling.

"Is this all you are eating?" She asked curiously, pushing aside her coffee, having more interest in the man in front of her.

"I don't exactly have a dinner party every night, you know."

"Neither do I, but at least I cook myself a decent meal," She said, probing more.

"I can't cook very well."

"_You can cook?"_ She said in awe.

"Not very well. Occasionally I burn the meat, or overcook the vegetables. I'm not very skilful with the frying pan."

"Wow. I can't believe I'm actually speaking to Draco Malfoy. Two years ago, I swear you don't even know what's a frying pan." She said, staring at him.

"I take this as a compliment?" He said, pretending to look offended, but feeling raher flattered.

"Trust me, it _is_ a compliment." She assured him, as they both took a sip of their coffee.

Hermione took this time to observe him. He hardly looked like the suave Draco Malfoy that lorded over everyone. He didn't look that bad with those nerdy glasses on, just different. He looked intellectual, smart and even friendly. Almost…gentlemanly. Somehow the glasses still managed to bring out the steely grey in his eyes. He didn't even look awful in those thick frames, which Hermione thought was extremely unfair. Not even close. Hermione decided that he looked pretty good, a bit odd yes, but still handsome in an odd sort of way.

"Imagine what we look like to the rest of the world. We must look absolutely ridiculous with the both of us wearing funny big glasses." She commented out of the blue, a hint of smile on her face as she imagined how others might react looking at them.

"You know, you don't look so bad in those glasses." He told her.

"Neither do you."

"You shouldn't be afraid to wear them. They don't look that bad."

"Really?" Hermione asked, smiling.

"I'm surprised Potter doesn't suspect you have myopia, with your nose in the book all the time," He told her frankly, downing his cup of coffee.

"Well, he doesn't," she glared at him.

"Tell me, how is he? Still saving the world?" He asked, and their conversation about the dreaded pair of glasses ended just then.

Half an hour later, a rather peculiar old lady walked out of a small, tucked-away bookstore in Muggle London, congratulating herself for making a fantastic bargain as she swung her new shopping carrier emblazoned with the word 'Harris'. She walked no more than three streets and a turn before she arrived in front of a nearby cosy café, and decided to reward herself for her fantastic buy. Minutes later, taking a sip of her rather bland-tasting tea (while reading a copy of _Hamlet_), she couldn't help but to overhear a strange-looking couple, both oddly wearing old-fashioned glasses and their eyes oddly magnified, having a loud chit-chat over Muggles (at this she wondered if her ears are failing), glasses, and strangely, garden gnomes.

_Weird_, she thought, the things wearing odd _spectacles _can do to you.

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**There. The second chapter. I thought this was rather cute, and I hope you find it too. If you do, please please please review**!!! 


	3. An Unobstrusive Tea Store

**Yes I'm back with a new chapter for Over Tea Leaves. Sorry about the very long delay... I try to blame it on the combination of a broken down computer and exams.**

**This chapter I'm afraid, and may not be as enjoyable as the others. I'm touching on some stuff that makes Hermione's family look superficial, and some people may not like it. But what I am trying to show is that they don't necessarily understand what Hermione been through (ie.the war) and therefore there may be some sort of distance between them, like some of us have with our own relatives. I'm also trying to add more layers to the characters. Don't worry, all these are very subtle.**

**As usual I plead to you (or command muhahaha) to leave behind a couple of reviews. **

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****Chapter Three**

**An Unobstrusive Tea Store**

It was days like these that Hermione Granger appreciated the least.

She had lie awake in bed all night. It was only until she heard the shriek of her alarm clock though, did her eyes pry open grudgingly, even though of course, she wasn't really asleep. She wasn't really a morning person, and she guessed she never will be one. Nevertheless, her spirits couldn't help but dampen. She just want to sink into her lovely bed and stay there.

Of course, that wasn't the main reason why she particularly disliked today.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and freshen up. Washing her face in the basin, she wondered if she should chicken out, but then immediately banished the idea. Duty calls, no matter how much she hated it, and there was _no way_ to escape. Today was the visit to her Aunt Gloria's house for morning tea.

It wasn't that she didn't like her Aunt Gloria. Oh no, on the contrary, she liked her very much. Out of all her relatives, it was this dear aunt of hers who showed the most enthusiasm in witchcraft, and was the most supportive in her chosen career. Her other relatives never really forgiven her for not becoming a dentist.

No, it was all the gossiping that bothered her. Another few of her relatives would be there, and no doubt they would be eagerly prying for information about her non-existent _love life_ or lack of career. All the tsk-tsk irritated her, and they would telegraphing sympathetic looks to one another, about what a disaster she turned out to be.

She had to look her best, to show how happy and successful she was. She hated pity; especially from her relatives. Hermione was determined to not to be sympathized. She slipped on a fresh cream-coloured long sleeved dress and looked into her mirror, examining her reflection. She looked well in the dress, and the high neckline was modest enough for her conservative parents. Finally satisfied that her hair looked neat enough, she put on her favourite red hat and left her flat confidently.

* * *

Everything from then onwards went downhill. Mother Nature decided for no reason at all to blow up a gust, and she had to chase after her red hat whenever the wind picked up. She liked that hat very much, and she couldn't bear losing it, so she went trailing after the little hat, getting splashed in puddles and grass stains on her dress. Naturally her attempts to neaten her hair failed miserably, and her long brown hair was rumpled up.

By the time she arrived at 2 Pinewood Lane, she was in a state of mess. She was hot and messy, and her dress had earned several wrinkles as well as stains. She groaned silently, watching as her impeccably neat relatives gawked at her.

"Hermione, darling!"

Ignoring her relatives, she proceed to hug her dear Aunt Gloria, inhaling the familiar scent of gardenia perfume. She caught her merry aunt blue eyes twinkling, as if enjoying the joke very much while she embraced her niece back. It wasn't more than a few seconds later she found herself engulfed in the arms of her beaming parents. She kissed the both of them on the cheeks, and the tugging in her heart finally made her realize how much she missed them.

She was glad she came, at least, to see her father and mother.

"Glad we got you here for company. Can't imagine having to see through this boring thing without you." Her father whispered loudly, chuckling as they led her into the dining room.

Hermione smiled widely. Her father may be greying slightly, but he wasn't one to be crusty in his speech. He hadn't lost his sense of humour, and she knew that he hated this whole affair as much as she does. He was probably one of the only rare few who understood her.

Yes, she know she was supposed to love her family, and she knew deep down inside she did. But they were regular normal people, who didn't understand what she had went through. They were just a family of nice suburban people who had a proud family background, where order and attire was important to them. They didn't go to school for magic. She went through a War that they were oblivious too, and they couldn't possibly understand how she feel. She just want to embrace life and not lived in a busy, shallow world anymore.

As they all settled on the long dining table she noticed her uncles and aunts staring diapprovingly at her. _Her hair_, she winced inwardly, catching a glimpse of her reflection at the window. Hastily she attempted to flatten her hair, but knowing her attempt was failing miserably. _This must be how Harry felt like all the time_, she thought miserably as she sat down.

There Hermione Granger (blacksheep of the family) was, in a state of mess, owning a little cafe and having a not-so-glamorous career. Her hair was tangled and fell all over her face, and she just noticed a grass stain on her skirt, much to her dismay. Some of her relatives were gawking at her openly.

Suddenly she found the china very interesting.

"How are you of late?" Emily Granger asked smugly as she tipped a couple of sausages into her porcelain plate. "I have been terribly busy, what with the Watson case and all."

"I'm fine, thanks," Hermione replied, clenching her teeth. It was a good time to concentrate on the scrambled eggs on her plate if she didn't want to make a scene.

"But of course, you must have quite a bit of free time. I mean, not much to do in a... coffee shop. Don't worry, Hermione, it will get better." Her cousin added sympathetically, with a pat on her shoulder while she daintily sipped her tea.

It took all of Hermione's strength not to scream at her and remind them that she chose to be this way. She didn't want to work in a stuffy office, she wanted_ freedom._

But of course, they wouldn't listen. None of them ever would. Instead, she forced herself to smile at them, hoping it didn't seem too much like the grimace it was meant to be.

"How are you Hermione darling? Uncle Em and I are so worried about you," asked Aunt Polly, two seats down the table. Uncle Em nodded absently.

"Fine."

"If you need any help, don't be afraid to ask us darling..."

"I'm fine," Hermione repeated, feeling slightly irritated

"How's your love life going? Allison here recently got engaged..." Aunt Clementine nodded towards her daughter at the other end of the table. As if on cue, Allison immediately shoved her ring into Hermione's view. It was a gold band which an indecently sized diamond, no doubt, purchased by her very rich successful fiancé.

"Nice," Hermione said with an disinterested look, but continued stabbing her bacon viciously.

"Three Carats and all!Of course it's specially designed..."Aunt Clementine droned on as she nodded politely. She knew where this conversation was heading, and if anything, hated it more than their pity for her so-called "lack of career".

" You haven't answered Clementine's question, dear," commented Aunt Gloria, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She knew how Hermione felt about this whole situation, and enjoyed looking at her favourite niece squirm.

"Which one?" She asked, glaring at her merry aunt.

" The love life one," Aunt Gloria innocently said, well knowing the impact of this question.

" Er..."

" Now, now Gloria! Don't go around embarrassing the poor girl!" said Aunt Polly with a titter. " Don't despair too much, I'm sure you will meet a nice boy somewhere..."

" Oh, but there is one, though," She interrupted nonchalantly.

There was a clatter of forks, and Hermione was now well aware of the silence at the table. Even Uncle Em perked up. She heard her father wheeze, and her mother was trying not to laugh.

"Go on," Aunt Polly urged, trying to sound as disinterested but failing.

" His name is William." It was a fit of inspiration and exasperation that compelled her to do this.

" How's old is he?" Emily prodded.

"Almost fifty." she answered, enjoying the effect of her words.

" Fifty! That's so old! He's..."

" Perfect. He drinks, smokes, lives in a one-room flat with two dogs, works as a garbage man and just came out of jail."

Aunt Polly let out a shriek, appalled. Her mother was smiling, well aware that her sister was unconscious of the fact that it was a joke.

" He owns a gun, was formerly in rehab for drug abuse..." Hermione ploughed on, continuing where her absurd imagination took her. " And of course, I am his mistress waiting for him to end his one-month marriage."

Her last statement finished her wailing aunt and her father. Aunt Polly burst into tears, while her father could no longer control his shaking and burst into laughter. The rest of the table laughed, immensely relieved and thoroughly enjoying the joke.

"Polly, she's joking." Aunt Gloria comforted.

"Oh."

" Nice tea, Aunt Gloria," Hermione said, breaking the silence and feeling refreshed from the mischief she just done.

" Of course, dear, I got them at the Bennet's," her aunt replied breezily.

* * *

The rest of the breakfast went well enough. After her fiasco, none of them cared to addressed her directly anymore, and frankly, Hermione wasn't bothered. Not caring how she looked anymore, she ran around the garden with the dog, upset the pot of tea by accident, and wore her very unbecoming pair of spectacles just to scare her relatives. By the end of the morning, most of them were almost too eager to see her go.

She should have thought of this long ago, she thought as she skipped down the London streets again. The whole morning didn't went as bad it should have, though it could have been better. Trying to push the fiasco out of her head, she continuing skipping down the pavement, feeling the sunlight tingling on her skin and very much alive again.

Fifteen minutes later, she appeared outside a little store, looking down at the little note paper she had been trying to decipher. After breakfast, she asked Aunt Gloria where was Bennet's—she wasn't kidding when she said the tea tasted good—and her aunt had given her its address. But in her haste to get away, she scribbled it down illegibly onto the paper and she wasn't sure she got the right one.

The shop in front her was small and tucked away, and only a little wooden signed with 'Bennet's' engraved on it betrayed its identity. She smiled lightly as she straightened her hat. Hermione liked that about this shop. Unobstrusive, small, hidden from the crowded streets. Just like a secret.

Entering the shop, she was greeted by a very lovely smell of tea. Not over powering, as if too overly impress, but delicate and pleasantly faint. It was the very type of scent that was there one minute and when you sniffed the next minute it disappears, very much like the the exterior of this shop.

There wasn't a very wide variety of tea either, nothing too commercial to cater to a wide variety of people. It wasn't like a supermarket—overwhelmed by too many choices so as to boost sales—but there were enough to choose from. As if they only sell the finest quality and what they liked. Not snobbish or pretentious, but... selective. Hermione liked that too, and grew even more fond of this shop.

She wandered over the back of the shop, where cannisters of tea and open, wooden boxes of them were displayed. She leaned in closer to one of the wooden boxes, inhaling the sweet aroma that came with it. She was _definitely_ getting one of those.

And Earl's Grey too.

There weren't many people in the shop. Looking around, she spotted a well-dressed men chatting animatedly with a greying man, obviously enjoying their conversation. Peering closer to see if one of them was Mr Bennet, she did a slightest double take.

"What are you doing here?"

Both gentlemen spun around, and she saw surprise register on the blond man's face. And then Draco Malfoy smiled, and the both of them headed towards Hermione.

"A better question for me to ask you, though I know the answer. You are finally taking my recommendation to this place to buy tea leaves from this place." Draco Malfoy said, gazing at her. It was more of a statement than a question.

So that was why she found the name Bennet's _so familiar_. He had mentioned it before.

" It appears my aunt have the same taste as you," Hermione told him honestly.

"This is Mr Bennet." He gestured casually to his elder companion, who was smiling warmly at Hermione.

"Please to meet you sir," Hermione greeted, heartily giving a hearty handshake.

"You must be Hermione," he said, his eyes giving a familiar twinkle.

"Yes, how did you know?" she asked amazed, making her wonder whether Draco had been talking about her.

" Your Aunt Gloria speaks of you often. The resemblance is there," he chuckled.

She couldn't help but keep smile at him. There was something so kind about his eyes that made Hermione feel welcome.

"Lucky for you, we are both experts in tea and can help someone as inapt as you pick a prime selection of tea." Draco told to the brunette.

" I want that tea over there_ please_," she said pointedly to the shopkeeper, ignoring Draco's comments.

" Ah, you must be mistaken, Draco. Your lady friend has fine taste!" exclaimed Mr Bennet, shaking his head, "One of our best tea here! She can tell what is quality!"

" I assure you, when she offered me a cup of tea the last time, I didn't think so."

"Well, then, we just have to bring this lady around," Mr Bennet said, his eyes twinkling as he took her around the shop, very much like the way Aunt Gloria's did this morning.

After a quick recommendation of the best tea leaves, he taught her the perfect way to brew tea. "Like this," he told Hermione, " you are able to taste the tea better."

She spent an hour chatting with him, who had been very enjoyable company. There was something about his grave face that made him seem so wise, like a book. Draco, on the other hand, kept making little malicious comments, and they both of them would always end up quibbling. Mr Bennet would then lean back onto the counter to watch the two silently, amused.

As Mr Bennet let to attend to other customers, Hermione turned to Draco, looking expectedly at him. He raised his eyebrows.

" What is it?"

" You never answered my question you know," she said, quoting her aunt's words.

"Which? One tends to forget a lot when he is busy arguing with a girl." Draco said pleasantly.

" Why are you here?" She asked again, curious for the imperative truth. Even though she tried not be bias, there was something in her mind which found this entire day unbelievable. Somehow,she just couldn't imagine Draco being friendly to a muggle, let alone to someone so normal and old. And yet, she saw the both of them chatting away happily, engrossed in conversation. And unless her eyes deceived her, the both of them were good friends.

"Can't I visit a friend?" He answered, eyebrows still raised.

"How did you know him?"

"Business transactions at first. Then a couple of quick pop down the shop, a few casual conversations, and then friends."

"But that's so... Unlike you," she picked her words carefully, fearing to offend him.

He sighed, but sis not reply straight away.

"He is a wise man, and not so many of them come by these days," He finally said.

" But..."

At this point, Draco cut in.

"Do you find him wise man?" He suddenly asked.

" Yes," she replied, stunned by his abrupt question.

" Don't you find him easy to talk to, and enjoy his company?"

"Yes."

" Do you like him?"

"Yes."

" Then there's your answer." He finally told her.

For some reason, she liked his answer very much. It was simple, almost too simple an answer. It wasn't like him to answer like this, but somehow she knew it was the truth. Not everyone had motives, and sometimes you just didn't need or have reasons to like someone. Mr Bennet had this winning way of charming people,and she knew that. That, frankly, should be enough to like someone. It pleased her that Draco knew that.

His answer had surprised her, but _she liked it_ all the same.

" Okay," she told him as they exchange glances briefly, and he smiled back at her, thanking her. By then Mr Bennet came back, and the three of them chatted as before, the pair unconscious that he had been watching them from afar.

Hermione had no hesitation in buying many cannisters of tea from him, resisting his every attempt to give her some for free. After paying for her purchases at the till, she thanked him once again for his help before she left.

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr Bennet. Unlike some people, you were actually _nice_ and _useful,"_ Hermione said as she glared at Draco Malfoy, who protested loudly.

"Always a pleasure to help people," Mr Bennet said, a hint of humour in his voice as he stared the two. " You were every bit as Draco described you to be."

* * *

**I hope you like it... And leave behind plenty of reviews for me. **

**The original chapter I written wasn't like this, and it ended up being too long, and I have to separate the chapter and rework it. Instead, I will be writing it under a one-shot, as a light hearted companion piece to this, so look out for that.**

**REVIEW!!!**


	4. Saucy Hats and Pretty Redheads

**Yes, I know, it's taken me months to churn out this chapter. I'm just so so so sorry about that. I promise the next one would be better—and faster. I hope this chapter satisfy you.**

**I think to understand this chapter more, you guys have to refer to a side-along one shot. Compliments to the Red Hat. If you guys haven't read it yet, read it first (and review).**

**Oh yes, I have been nominated in the Dramione Awards! Click on my profile to find the link and vote for me! **

**The story must go on.**

**

* * *

****Chapter Four— Saucy Hats and Pretty Redheads**

The next two weeks passed like a blur. It wasn't that she was particularly busy or anything, but everything seem to fall into routine. Hermione found that routine seem to make time go faster. She wasn't particularly pleased with that.

Over the weekend she had renewed her friendship with Ginny Weasley. She had been grateful for the momentary break from the usual routine, and truth to be told, she kind of miss her friend. So Ginny turned up in her house one day and the both of them caught up on gossip, chattering about everything under the sun. From Ron's disastrous date with some mysterious blonde, who turned out to be allergic to everything orange in colour, to Ginny's job in Witch Weekly.

Yes, Hermione was glad to see Ginny Weasley once more, but nevertheless she felt relieved when her red-headed friend left. She just wasn't ready for the stress of the Wizarding World yet.

Still, that night when she went to bed, she couldn't help but replay bits on the conversation they had in the morning.

"Should date around more, Hermione. Men like brunettes you know," Ginny commented, winking at her friend. She didn't take any notice of it.

"Look who's talking," Hermione snorted, taking in the red-head's particularly stunning dress. It was a tight black one, something that Hermione knew she would never wear in her entire life. She didn't particularly admire anything too sophisticated; she preferred it simple.

"Come on, Hermione! How else are you going to grab a guy?" Ginny whined, and Hermione sent her a withering glance.

"I am not interested yet, thanks."

"If not_ now_, then when?" Ginny sighed. Her friend could be difficult sometimes.

"Perhaps never," was her brief reply.

"Some day you are going to eat your words, Hermione, when you meet that special someone. Just you wait." Ginny predicted, smirking in a way that made Hermione feel slightly uncomfortable.

The truth was that Hermione didn't mind. She hoped someone would sweep her off her feet too. It just seems that she had trouble finding who.

* * *

It was Thursday afternoon, around three o'clock. Business had been fairly slow moving, and few customers entered her coffee house than usual. It was the hot weather that was making everyone sluggish, Hermione thought. It was awfully nice just stay at home and curl up in bed and do nothing. She was very much tempted to do that herself.

The bell tinkled again, and Hermione tore her gaze away from her book. A familiar blond man had walked in. She wasn't surprised to see a dark-haired lady accompanying him—he had been bringing female guests alongside with him here for a couple of days now. Each time though, she noticed, he was with a different woman.

Draco Malfoy gave a curt nod (with unusual civility than he usually paid her) and took a seat near the counter. The girl followed him and the both of them placed their orders. After a while the both of them engaged in light conversation, though Hermione thought it seemed slightly one-sided on the girl's part. In fact, he sometimes appeared to be totally bored, stifling a couple of yawns himself. On several occasions he even winked at Hermione when he saw she was looking.

Once or twice in this peculiar behaviour she caught herself staring _too often_ at Draco and his female companion, and scolded herself for prying. It was a silly thing to do, especially since they weren't the closest of acquaintance. Although she constantly reminded herself not to, Hermione still found herself watching them until the both of them left, leaving only the dregs of tea leaves behind.

* * *

The next day Draco entered the café with yet another woman. This one was really pretty; she had deep red hair that reminded her of somebody. Not Ginny —hers was more bright and flaming—but rather close to a picture that she had seen of Harry's mum. There was also something in her dark blue eyes that seemed so familiar and, well, really _soft_.

She seemed rather nice as well, and had given Hermione a big smile when she entered. Hermione returned it sincerely, but couldn't help but have a twinge at how compatible she looked with Draco.

Draco appeared to take a better liking to the pretty redhead as well, she had observed. The both of them seem to really hit it off, and the redhead would smile and the both of them would laugh. The girl had a really nice laughter, and Hermione found herself admiring the nice tinkle in her voice.

The redhead absent-mindedly brush lint off her light blue sundress, and this seemingly innocent movement made Hermione suddenly aware that she was _staring_. Again. Hermione blushed—she felt like she was intruding into an intimate moment. She didn't know why, but it felt like that. It was the same sort of feeling as being a third wheel. She quickly turned back to the book she had been reading, determined not to look up.

There was a sudden heavy weight on the table, and Hermione lifted her head. It was Draco. She looked at the clock. One hour had passed.

"Aren't you going to offer me a cup of coffee?" He asked, shaking his head. Hermione searched around the room. The redhead was gone.

"I thought you preferred tea," was all she said.

"I need something stronger today," he replied, and he ordered a cup of black coffee from a passing waitress. The both of them sat in silence until the waitress came back with Draco's order.

"You have been observing me, Granger."

This statement was so remarkably similar to the one that he made when they first met here a while ago that Hermione laughed. Draco, after a moment of confusion, realised this too and laughed along.

"Well, who are they?" she asked, obviously implying the ladies he had been with recently. Her warm brown eyes sparkled with curiosity now, eager for information.

"Blind dates," Draco replied equally straightforward, giving a roguish grin. "Not my idea though."

"Whose then?"

A grimace appeared on Draco's face and he scrounged up his features before he answered.

"Mother's."

"I can't believe Narcissa would do such a thing." Hermione said, leaning forward with interest. Draco rolled his eyes and took a sip from his cup.

"She told me a few months ago that I better bring a wife home to meet her soon. And when I didn't, she went into panic mode. Hence all those matchmaking." He said, sighing and rubbed his forehead.

"Matchmaking?" Hermione inquired.

"_Matchmaking._ She set me up with quite a number of girls already. Pff. As if I needed the help." Draco huffed.

"Yes, you do give off that kind of aura," Hermione joked, earning a light punch from Draco.

"I will have you know I'm devilishly handsome."

"In your dreams," Hermione said, chuckling.

"Anyway, she sets me up with a new girl _everyday_. It has been a downright pain. Some of them were incredibly boring."

"I assume that they are some of your mother's friend's daughters or something?" Hermione asked, remembering the posh and class most of his dated had exhibited. They reminded her of the air the Malfoys' used to carry in the past.

"Most of them. You can imagine the type of stimulating conversation we have."

"So how is it?" Hermione asked coyly.

"How is what?"

"The matchmaking."

"The truth?"

"_The truth."_ She rolled her eyes.

"Like_ rubbish_." Draco grinned.

"You seem happy about it," Hermione asked warily.

"Well, you can hardly qualify conversations revolving how pink colour shoes do not match that shade of black handbag as anything better."

Hermione hesitated. "The redhead seems really nice."

"Prudence?" He asked, as if surprised that she kept track of their movements.

"The pretty one with dark red hair from today."

"Oh, you mean Prue. She's rather nice isn't she?" Draco said, seemingly pleased. "We already knew each other before all these matchmaking fiasco. We are friends actually. I have no idea how mother knew her. Saucy little girl, that one."

"Oh?" said Hermione, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Imagine our reaction when we saw each other today. I swear her eyeballs were going to pop out." Draco said good-naturedly, shaking his head before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Well, at least consider her."

"Nah. We are too chummy friends to do that. May introduce her to Blaise though." Draco said laughing.

"Blaise? Him?" She said distrustfully. She had her doubts about Draco's own matchmaking.

"I have no doubt they will hit it off. They both love making jokes at my expense. And they are both incredibly cheeky."

"I have no idea Narcissa is so desperate for a daughter-in-law," Hermione said, sounding thoughtful. "But maybe that's because it's a custom in the Wizarding World to marry young."

"Partially," Draco replied, smirking.

"You mean there's another reason?" she asked, curious.

"Loneliness," he answered, sighing. "That, coupled with the fact that she fears that her only son would remain single forever."

"You have dated many before. Narcissa shouldn't be afraid of anything, should she?"

"I haven't had a romantic life in years."

His reply almost made Hermione spilled her coffee. She looked up at him, surprised. He was looking at her, grinning, as if very much amused.

"It's true," He assured her, laughing. "Not a serious one anyway."

"Narcissa must be devastated by this then, seeing how eager she is to find you a wife," Hermione commented, still slightly shocked. She didn't trust herself to pick up her cup of coffee, so she just sat there and played with the sugar.

"Very," Draco confirmed, rolling his eyes. "It's dreadful to see her act like that. I actually feel quite guilty to burst her bubble sometimes. You can't imagine how it is."

"Actually I_ can_. I see the exact same behaviour in my parents and relatives all the time," Hermione winced, recalling her breakfast disaster weeks before.

"Then you know what it's like."

"I know what it's like." Hermione agreed. Matchmaking was one of her parent's favourite topics.

"Good. Then you will do me a favour."

Hermione looked up, her eyebrows raised. He pretended to look innocent.

"What is it?" She asked suspiciously.

"Save me from the next overly-interested one. By book or by crook."

"I will try," Hermione frowned slightly. "Though I'm not sure exactly how am I going to do that."

Relief spread across his face. "Thank you. I swear, after the next one, I'm going to make sure Mother stops shoving photos of different witches to me."

"Why only after the next one?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Because she has really high hopes on that one. Apparently she's a model that nobody can resist." Draco answered, looking straight into her eye. After two seconds, the both burst out laughing, tittering over Narcissa Malfoy's failed attempts at matchmaking.

* * *

True to his words, Draco returned the next day, this time with a gorgeous blonde witch. Hermione had to admit this one was good-looking, though personally she thought the redhead yesterday was more beautiful. This one had a haughty, holier-than-thou look.

Draco looked up at Hermione, winked and rolled his eyes in the general direction of the enthusiastic blonde, who apparently insist on a constant stream of chatter. Turning back to his date, he quickly pretending to look prim and deeply interested. And he was failing.

That girl can sure gab, Hermione mused, as Draco's date continued her story one hour after. Though she could tell that Draco was trying to be polite and gentlemanly, even he could not help but stifle a yawn. Several minutes later, she saw him shoot a pleading look again, the same one that she ignored the past few times. She hadn't been satisfied enough with his squirms.

By book or by crook, Draco had said. _By book huh_, Hermione mused.

Relenting at last, she got up from her seat, carrying her cup of coffee with her. Pretending again to be too engrossed in her book, she accidentally-on-purpose stumbled just as she was near Draco and his date, spilling a generous amount of coffee on her.

As if on cue, his date jumped up and shrieked, apparently very upset about the state of her dress. It was a nice coffee-brown now.

"Oh gosh! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to—was too engrossed in my book—I wonder if those stains would _ever _come out!" apologised Hermione dramatically.

She found his entire matchmaking affair rather amusing, and hoped that her face didn't show it. Hermione tried to hide her smile behind a façade of innocence, and rather thought she was faring quite well. She was therefore very dismayed when she realised that Draco did not appreciate her acting skills at all. He was roaring with laughter.

Apparently his date noticed it too. Mistaking his amusement for mockery, she coloured angrily, very offended over the fact that her date was laughing at her. She stood up and dumped her cup of coffee all over Draco's shirt, much to his surprise.

"See how you like to be doused with coffee!" She had yelled. And with a sneer on her face, she stormed out of the café.

Calmly Draco watched with relief as his ex-date walked out of sight. He did not seem the slightest bit disappointed being dumped. On the contrary he seemed to find the whole situation funny.

"Well, at least your mother was right. She is attractive," Hermione giggled, unable to keep a straight face.

"I hope that's not an attempt of comforting people. It's a very poor effort." Draco told her while wiping his coffee-stained shirt. Hermione gave him a withering glance before grabbing several napkins and coolly helping repair the damage.

"I resent that."

"Almost as bad as your acting, I say."

"At least I tried!"

"A fact for which I am very grateful for. Thanks anyway Granger, I owe you one," he told her gratefully.

"I would hold you to that." Hermione informed him.

"Oh?"

"I'm pretty sure I need you to return me this favour sometime," smiled Hermione. "My parents would be doing the same thing soon."

* * *

"Hermione Granger!" said a voice.

She tore her gaze away from her book. Somebody was calling her. Reluctantly she turned around, half-welcoming and half-unwilling for any distraction. Hermione looked up, only to see someone standing behind her. It was that girl with deep red hair from yesterday. She was beaming brightly at her.

What was she doing in her coffee shop again?

"Take a seat," she greeted cordially, and the petite girl slipped into the booth seat opposite her gratefully.

"Hermione Granger," she said again, still smiling.

She returned the smile with equal warmth, though with evident uncertainty. Hermione wasn't exactly sure what the pretty redhead was doing here again. In fact, she had no idea how the girl even _knew_ her name, and wasn't sure how to addressed that issue.

The redhead must have detected her confusion, for she started to laugh, her voice tinkling like bells. Hermione noticed again how nice it sounded.

"Draco told me about you," she explained.

"Oh." Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Anyway, my name's Prudence-- not really a prude though. My name doesn't go well with me," she introduced merrily, and Hermoine started to relax. There was something in the redhead's friendly mannerisms that make her feel comfortable.

"I know. Draco told me. But it's a nice name."

"I happened to pass by again, so I thought I would drop here to see you. Draco mentions your name a lot," she added meaningfully. Her dark blue eyes were twinkling. _Strange_. Hermione was pretty sure she saw that twinkle before.

"I love your shop," Prudence continued, gesturing at the surroundings. Hermione felt the corner of her lips tugging.

"Thanks. This means a lot to me, you know. My family weren't really supportive," Hermione told her confidingly before she could check herself.

"I know what you mean," she said, rolling her eyes. "Like, my uncle will always get on my case for going into journalism."

"You write?" Hermione enquired, interested.

"For Daily Prophet. A junior reporter though," she answered breezily. A waitress passed by, and Prudence turned to her for a minute to place an order. She smiled. The two of them had really hit it off.

Hermione took this time to gaze at the redhead carefully. She was really pretty, with dark red hair and pale skin. But it wasn't just that. There was something special in her smile and behaviour that Hermione found appealing. Oh, she was lovely for sure, but there was a hint of mischief in those dark blue eyes, and a slight sauciness disposition. Something in her face strongly reminded Hermione of the behaviour of her favourite red hat in the park weeks ago. Sauciness?

"You know, Draco doesn't really occur to me as the type who confides in his friend. I'm shocked he even told you about me," Hermione commented absently.

"He isn't," Prudence agreed. "But he tells me anyway."

"Known him for long?" Hermione asked, curious.

"A year or so. Why? Interested in him?" Prudence asked, smiling wickedly.

"No!" Hermione retorted, blushing a little.

"You sure?" Prudence teased cheekily. Her eyes were glittering.

"Absolutely!" Hermione nodded firmly for emphasis, but privately Prudence wondered whether or not it was more to convince her own self than anybody else.

Either way, Prudence decided not to mention her own opinions out loud. _At least,_ she smiled coyly, _not yet._

"That's too bad," she replied offhandedly. "He is _such_ a catch. Pity he laughed at me when I tried to cook once. Otherwise I might be interested. Damn him for wanting to set me up with Zabini too!" She said, shaking her head.

"I think you would like him," Hermione said evilly, paying back for that remark about Draco.

"Not you too!" groaned the redhead, slapping her forehead and feigning anger.

"You will never know!" Hermione laughed.

"No _way._ Not if his head is anywhere near as big as Draco's. Kind of big-headed isn't he?" Prudence joked as she tossed her magnificent hair

"Yeah it is." Hermione said, smiling dreamily as she recalled her impression of Malfoy during her years at Hogwarts. Not a terribly good one, that's for sure.

Thinking about it now, it wasn't just her that changed. Draco has changed a lot too. It wasn't just his air. It wasn't just his improved manners. It wasn't even the way he carried himself. It was all these and something _more,_ something that Hermione herself couldn't quite place.

Their acquaintanceship had also long transformed into something almost like friendship. Almost, but not quite there yet. Hermione wasn't sure exactly what to call her relationship with Draco. It was something between acquaintance and friends, and yet it seem to be bordering on something more.

She suddenly realised, with a start, that Prudence was observing her. Her head was tilted, as if examining Hermione closely and peering at her. And then she said something.

"You know, you are every bit as Draco described you to be."

For the second time in two days Hermione was strongly reminded of the conversations she had recently. All this playback of dialogue was acting like a blur of carousel. She had heard this line before. Someone told her this before… Only who?

Mr Bennet from the tea shop! It suddenly hit her.

"I'm sorry, but what did you just say?" Hermione asked, hardly daring to believe the coincidence of it all.

Her companion smiled saucily, her blue eyes even twinkling oddly like Mr Bennet's.

"Haven't I mentioned before? My uncle owns a tea shop," the redhead said brightly. "Let me re-introduce myself then. I'm Prudence. Prudence _Bennet._"

Once again, Hermione was reminded of the mischievous red hat that caused her much trouble last week.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, its very cute. I hope you guys can also see the link between Prudence Bennet and the hat from Compliments to the Red Hat. They are both red, mischievous, saucy and have a knack for pulling Draco and Hermione together. In fact, I would go as far as to say Prudence is the human version of the hat. **

**I didn't intend to really create Prudence Bennet, she just came along. She is a very lively character and likable. Don't worry though, there won't be some love triangle with her. **

**More matchmaking coming up too. No more hints though, this is merely bribery so I can bide a little more time for the next chapter. **

**Naturally you all shall review, and once again vote for me in the Dramione Awards (click on my profile to find link)!**


	5. Narcissa and Narcissus

**Okay, some of you are going to be all, what's this story again? I can't remember cos the author (Stares accusingly at me) hasn't updated for a long time.**

**Haha okay I know I seem all MIA for a long time, but I'm really trying to write with whatever free time I have left. So this extra long chapter is a special sorry and reward to all my faithful followers( I'm beginning to sound like some cult lol). Don't worry… I'm posting another story real soon.**

**Meanwhile, enjoy.**

* * *

** Chapter Five- Narcissa and Narcissus **

Narcissa Malfoy was by no means an impatient woman. The truth could not be any further from it. She was, in fact, by nature and nurture, an extremely composed woman.

To many, including her, this had been a great advantage. She never did lose her temper nor lost her head. Before others, she appeared to be a very collected woman, with no sense of anxiety at all. And, when the situation calls for it, she could choose to use all the calmness (some call it coolness) she possessed to bide her time. She, like all other Malfoys, never hurried.

Indeed she was a patient woman, but then again, she is a _mother _after all. Bless her, the dear mother!

* * *

She had been sitting by the fire that very night, pretending to knit all night long while in actual fact waiting for news of some sort. Her feet were preoccupied in tapping impatiently against the marble floor, something out of tandem with her normally cool exterior. Her anxious gaze kept alternating between the antique grandfather clock and the great door. And finally, after several times of repeating this routine, Narcissa could bear it no longer. She stood up and started pacing around the room. Those few house elves who were fortunate enough to witness their mistress in this anxious state could hardly believe their eyes: Their mistress was finally _cracking_.

Narcissa was experiencing countless forms of emotions right now. Worry. Anxiety. Excitement. Hope. For some strange reason her facial muscles would not stop twitching, and she took this as a good sign and omen._This could be the one_, Narcissa repeated to herself hopefully.

She stared at the door impatiently once more, and wondered fretfully what time her son would come home.

Draco was going to be the death of her!

Narcissa did not think she was so very complex a character to understand. She always had been a simple woman (much like Hermione, our hero here). It did not take much for her to be content or satisfied. True, she had been rich and tremendously wealthy, but Narcissa never asked or took more than she needed. She rarely desired anything so much.

Unfortunately this had been one of the few rare occasions.

In her opinion, Draco had been one of her greatest trial in her life. Already at the age of three, he had been too energetic a child. Clearly her son was one of those who had a great indifference for danger and great thirst for adventure. Everyday he went bouncing up and down the entire house with a head full of questions, some of which his mother would not reply without blushing.

He happened to possess a keen sense of curiosity and would frequently wane Narcissa out with his why, why and whys. Draco was a particularly nosy child, and insisted in sticking his nose in everything. He also had a knack for getting into trouble (which he couldn't have acquired without his first two talents). By then he had already begun burning her best curtains in the house up.

Undeniably Draco had been her pride and joy, but along with this package came stubbornness and mischief. As a child Draco would stubbornly refuse to eat anything green, no matter how desperately Narcissa persuaded him to. She had wheedled and bribed and did everything she could, but the vegetables went untouched all the same.

As he grew up he would exasperate her with his nonsense, countless detentions and his unhealthy interest in dangerous sports. She was constantly bombarded by recounts of how her son managed to hex an entire corridor full of house elves by owl mail. Within the same time span, he also managed to devastate his professors with incredible amount of energy and questions they could not answer without stammering. Being playful, the prank-loving boy would also charm the entire mansion to become an incredible, permanent shade of turquoise whenever he came back for the holidays. His mother would make sure that no guests were invited during this time.

So as you can see, while Narcissa had but one child, Draco had always been one child _too many_. Even as a fully grown adult now, he was as mischievous and droll as before, if not worse. She still had her hands full, and though she loved the lively Draco dearly, someone else needed to take care of him after so many years—a _wife._

This was the thing Narcissa wanted most in her life—for her dear playful son to get married. She had plainly expressed this wish more than once before, but Draco still remained stubbornly single. He refused to get married. Whether this was due to natural circumstances or because of the perversity in his character Narcissa did not know, but she had a sneaky suspicion it was the latter. Again and again she had begged and pleaded him, to, _for goodness sake_, find someone, but Draco remained unmoved. His eyes would twinkle every time she quizzed about his non-existent love life. Narcissa thought it was a phase that would die eventually, but she was wrong. Time passed and yet no girlfriend came.

She grew extremely anxious. She may be a patient little woman, but she was a mother through and through. Naturally she fell into a panic attack. She would not allow her dearest son to stay this way, nor allow her dreams to be shattered. When it came to other matters she was cool as cucumbers, but with regards to this painful matter she lost all her reserve. She also lost her head completely, and desperately flew around for help. Abandoning her image and backed only by her determination, she devised a plan to help Draco and eventually came up with a scheme.

Narcissa argued that her matchmaking plan had been fool-proof, but her son knew otherwise. Anxious to see her son attached, she proceed to contact all her acquaintances and asked if they had any eligible daughters. A long list of names owled back. She set him up with every single one of them, insisting he went out on dates on all of them.

He did exactly what she asked him to do. That ungrateful boy happily took them all out, and terrorized the daylights out of them until she received very unsatisfactory reports from many of them, if not all. Draco looked destined to be rich, lonely, good-looking and single, but not if Narcissa could help it. She remained hopeful that suitable candidates will appear soon, but at the same time her patience was wearing out.

The absence of a complete family surrounded her, and she knew that to a certain extent that it affected Draco too. Lucius' death provided an emptiness neither could fill up. She had seen, with a keen mother's eye, the solitude in her devil-may-care son. Narcissa sensed that without seeing what her son needed—companionship, love, and family. She needed the same thing once in her life too.

A daughter-in-law seemed like a good answer. That extra someone would help fill the gaps in Draco's life and love him like he deserved. She could be a companion to her too. They would become nearly, if not fully, a complete family again.

And a grandchild. That very thought seemed so very pleasant to her! It would be absolutely delightful to be a grandmother! It was a thrill that just put a very wide smile in her face. A child to play and care for, and put laughter and youth back to their lives! It was the perfect family picture. Narcissa closed her eyes and imagined a golden-haired boy beaming and hugging her. Oh, what rapture!

She was smiling dreamily even as Draco entered the cold mansion. She did not catch his amused expression nor saw him smirk at her until a moment later, when he spoke.

"You seemed preoccupied." Was all he said. She opened her eyes, still smiling. There was no need to tell him now. She would keep this a little secret till later.

"How was the date?" Narcissa asked eagerly, barely keeping the excitement out of her voice. The dream of a grandchild came floating back into her mind. She hoped that it would remain there, though she very well knew that the probability was small.

"Perfect! It went like a disaster." Draco replied cheerfully, bouncing and sinking into her sofa. He looked unaffected. Even Narcissa's blind keenness and desperation could see that.

"What did you do to this one now?" she frowned slightly, but couldn't suppress a smile a moment later. Draco's blind dates were often funny and droll, and she loved him too much to stay mad at him. She still had a sense of humour even if they weren't mostly successful. Funny though, she thought, that it was she who most often became the victim of these disastrous dates, not her son.

"I laughed at my date when she was drenched in coffee. She returned the favour by throwing her entire beverage at me," Draco explained with a look of satisfaction.

"I wonder why you can't just sit through one day without getting into trouble." Narcissa said exasperatedly.

"I couldn't even if I tried."

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"Both," He answered evilly, wearing out his mother. "Now let us stop all this nonsense of matchmaking. You hadn't even greeted your son ever since he came back. You pounced on him and quizzed him instead of showering with affection."

Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest. She refused to reply. Draco was making her behave like a child again, so anxious and sulking. But Narcissa would do anything to achieve her aim, and if this works, well, so be it.

"Mother," Draco tried again. "_Mother."_

"I shall not speak to you until you stop devastating your mother." She replied coolly, going back to her knitting.

"This guilt tactic hasn't work on me since I was seven. It won't work now. Really, all this matchmaking schemes of yours are bound to fail. You_ know_ that." Her son said impatiently, gesturing to catch his mother's attention.

"It worked for your cousins." Narcissa frowned. "It's a tradition."

"Ah. But since when have I followed tradition?" Draco grinned roguishly, playing with the fringe of the cushions.

"That is most unfortunately true. Your professors at Hogwarts would reinforced that," She sighed, shaking her head of white-blond hair. Her son had never complied with the rules. He made sure she knew that very well.

There was no way she could win an argument against her son. She never did. But Narcissa wasn't about to give up. Her cherished dream refused to give way so quickly. She shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't. She did, she reminded herself, see that extra sparkle in him nowadays. The one only love could inspire.

"Is it really impossible for you to find me a daughter-in-law?" Narcissa asked.

"You think?"

"Yes. But I will do anything to keep my castles in the air from crumbling."

"Your castles has no foundation as of yet."

Narcissa thought about this. "Well, then I do know a couple more lovely…" She began, but her son interrupted her.

"If it was meant to be, it will come. I am thankful for your assistance, but I really don't need help." Draco told her firmly.

The image of a grandchild vanished rapidly in her head. Narcissa felt a twinge of disappointment.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Really really, son?"

"Really_really_, mother."

It was the end of that conversation, Narcissa could tell. She went back knitting, but kept one eye on her son as he instructed the elves to bring in some sort of beverage before picking up the papers. She could not be mistaken, surely. She was sure she spotted that extra gleam in his eyes, that radiance in him. Only love could do that. But maybe she was wrong. Friendship could do that, perhaps. Wait. It couldn't.

"Son," Narcissa suddenly blurted. The mere idea of it was terrible, her castles she so wonderfully built would crash down if it was true. "Are you _gay_?"

Draco looked up from the sports section at his mother, who was almost on the point of trembling. He rolled his eyes.

"No, mother," he said pointedly," I am not gay."

His mother exhaled a sigh of relief. She could breathe again. "Oh."

But what else could it be? Narcissa couldn't put her finger in it. What else could give her son that extra sparkle in him? Everything else seemed highly impossible. But then, what? Narcissa just couldn't seem to pinpoint.

This inner debate in her head went on until a house elf came back to the room, with a silver tray laden with a tea pot and several cups. Draco looked on enthusiastically, thanked the elf, and poured Narcissa a cup of strong-smelling beverage. She took it gingerly, and sniffed it.

"Coffee, Draco?" She asked puzzledly "I thought you liked tea."

"I do," he reassured her happily. "But I discovered that coffee also tasted remarkably wonderful. Try some."

Narcissa took a sip.

"It tastes good," she admitted grudgingly.

"Oh this?" Draco seemed pleased. "I got this from Hermione's little coffee house. She got this from Columbia during her trip few months back. Marvellous, isn't it?"

She nodded. Over the past few meetings with Draco she realised that Hermione was now fast becoming one of his friends. She approved of it, glad that there was someone at least, who could counter Draco in terms of wit. She enjoyed immensely hearing the quirky anecdotes about the two of them.

" Hermione said that she tasted better, but that this was really good as well." Draco continued, animation coming back to him.

Narcissa Malfoy examined her son as he chattered on and on about the coffee beans he found in Hermione's shop and how great they were. There it was, the animation in his manner. She could not be mistaken this time round. As he spoke Narcissa noticed her son beaming so brightly, radiating with such joy as he went on about how simply spectacular the coffee was. Hermione this and that. This never happened before. Not unless.

Narcissa Malfoy was startled as realization finally dawn upon her.

"Oh," Narcissa whispered softly.

* * *

An hour later, Draco bade his mother farewell as he prepared to return to his own apartment in Muggle London. Just as he was about to step out of the great door his mother stopped him.

"Tell me, son," Narcissa asked suddenly. "Are you or are you not capable of falling in love?"

"I never said I wasn't in love." Draco told his mother gently as he kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight mother."

She barely even noticed the house was in a shade of turquoise now.

It was only after Draco left before an idea started forming in Narcissa's head. Perhaps he didn't need help after all.

* * *

Help came in the form of the most unexpected person usually. For Narcissa this had been the case.

Hermione was right now in desperate need of help and sympathy. It was not the kind of response most people would expect when they are out on a date with an eligible someone, but Hermione Granger wished it all the same.

She did not receive sympathy from either of her best friends when she told them about tonight's blind date. Ron, in particular, had infuriated the brunette by congratulating her for crawling out of that hole she had been hiding.

"About time too," he boomed. Hermione hanged up on him.

Harry? Harry had been manipulated and bullied by his redheaded buddy to agreeing that Hermione should in fact go on this date. It was hardly consolation.

And with no one to help her, she had no choice. So Hermione had put on a nice blue dress and matching high heels, done up her hair prettily in curls, and went out on this date with a frightful smile on her face, absolutely sure it would be a disaster.

And she was right.

Oh to be sure, the restaurant had been nice. Really nice in fact, that Hermione made a mental note to bring her friends here soon to try it. The food had really been superb, and her new blue gown had surprisingly no stains on it. But the company had been excruciating.

He looked pretty decent, and Hermione admitted that he looked almost handsome. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He was smart too, for he mentioned only three times about how he had graduated from Harvard.

But did he _ever_ stop talking about himself?

"Did I mention how my professor complimented me once for my astounding research I did on stem cells?" Harvey asked her smugly.

It was eight thirty only, but Hermione had already regretted agreeing to this date six times (coincidentally, the same number of times Harvey talked about his debonair appearance). She never met anyone like him before—thank goodness.

Narcissistic. That was the only word Hermione could use to describe him. She was almost sure he would kiss himself if he could.

In an effort to keep herself from nodding, Hermione had idly toyed around with the Cajun chicken on her dinner plate, hoping her date would notice her lack of enthusiasm. Harvey however had been too engrossed complimenting himself to realize that. She even caught him admiring his reflection from his wine glass once.

She was slightly annoyed, and Hermione could not help but blame certain people for this disastrous night. It was, of course, her Aunt Polly's fault for giving such a ridiculous suggestion to her parents and compelling them to succumb to her ideas. A blind date—_how cliché was that_? She had no idea how her aunt could have such a ridiculous notion.

"Don't you think, Hermione?" Harvey finally concluded, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for her to almost kowtow to him in awe. Hermione gave him what she hoped look like an appreciative nod, and he continued on.

If Hermione was gifted in anything, it was in the fact that she had infinite patience. She could stand reading telephone book-thick literature. She could sit through six hours of lessons without going crazy. She could even stand listening to Professor Binns going on and on about goblin revolution without being hypnotized to slumber. But this… Well, it was pure, excruciating torture.

Listening to Harold (or was it Harvey?) drone on was bringing out the worst in her.

Somewhere out there, she knew her parents were laughing over the idea of her being set up by their aunt. And they did absolutely nothing to stop it. In fact, they found it highly hilarious.

"Have fun on your date," her father had told her when she last saw him, winking.

She would wring Aunt Polly's neck for matchmaking her with someone so pompous and egoistic, but her clueless aunt would probably set her up with another person again.

The urge to bang her hand on the table returned as her date ploughed on about how incredible he was, which was, by the way, fast becoming 'their' favourite topic. Hermione fervently prayed for a miracle.

If there really was a Merlin, she thought, please please please give her the miracle she had been wishing for all night.

And just like that, Merlin gave it to her.

* * *

There are nine chandeliers. Sixteen candlesticks. Four Prada handbags. One hundred and fifty two chairs. Hermione was pretty sure she counted everything that was quantitative in the room. But the date, amazingly, has not ended yet.

"Excuse me?" said a voice, interrupting her date's analysis on why he is so perfect.

Grateful for any distraction, Hermione turned to face her saviour with thankful smile on her face, only to receive a rather (pleasant, anything would be pleasant at this point of time) surprise.

Draco grinned back mischievously, obviously enjoying the turning of the tide. Her date looked irritated at the interruption. Hermione tried to mimic his expression, but her heart leapt for joy.

"What?" he demanded impatiently, with the exact air that reminded Hermione of Percy Weasley talking to the twins.

"You must be that really smart Harvard graduate my grandfather was talking about," Draco said aloud. Harvey (or Harold?) looked more nettled at this comment and a satisfied smile graced his face.

"Oh?"

"He accidentally overheard you talking to this young lady—" Draco gestured towards Hermione, "About your research paper. He is very interested to discuss more with you. Said something about it being pure genius."

Hermione's date suddenly perked up. "Of course I am very interested," he said eagerly, rising from his seat, moving to the far corner of the room which Draco had jerked his head to. An old bored-looking man sat there, and Harvey quickly headed towards him, happy to indulge in more self-praising to more audience. He didn't even bother to excuse himself from Hermione, but she couldn't care less.

Thank goodness. She let out a relieved sigh as she sank back into her dining chair.

"Quick!" Draco urged Hermione when he was out of earshot. "Escape before it's too late!"

Grabbing her hand, the both of them ran like hell out of the restaurant.

* * *

"What," Hermione asked breathlessly as they walked along the streets of London after that fiasco, "Was that all about?"

"Be grateful Granger," Draco chuckled. "I just saved you from Narcissus."

"And I owe you eternally for it."

"That bad?" he asked sympathetically.

"That bad," she confirmed.

"I just returned the favour I owe you. You saved me from my matchmaking session, if you recall."

"Well, you saved me from hell. For that I am in debt to you," she told him, smoothing her hair down. The cold wind was picking up.

"We are even then?"

"Definitely."

They continued to stroll along the hard cold cement pavement silently, not bothering to make conversation. Draco was deep in thoughts. Hermione was busy planning who to murder first. And apparently she was done with her decision-making, for she spoke out at last.

"I'm absolutely going to kill Ron," Hermione suddenly burst out. "Can you believe it? He actually called up my aunt—using a Muggle phone, mind you—and told her that he fully supported her decision to matchmake me with someone!"

"I bet the expression on your face then was priceless," the blond man laughed.

"His exact words. He would do anything just to see my jaw drop." Hermione said bitterly, kicking a stray pebble on the ground forcefully.

"Well, at least I cut your misery short with my spectacular save just now," Draco replied complacently, mussing up his fine hair with his right hand. "Although I did debate whether I should let you get tortured more for that little stunt you pulled during my blind dates."

"It wasn't intentional. I just enjoy seeing you squirm," Hermione smiled evilly. The memory of Draco looking so uncomfortable was hilarious.

"Ditto, ditto," laughed Malfoy.

"Who was that old man you sent him to?"

"Harvey's next victim." Draco replied playfully.

"How long do you think he would last?"

"Five minutes, if he's deaf."

"How did you know where my date was?" Hermione asked curiously, wanting to know every detail of this fiasco-and-escape story.

"Who said I knew?" He answered cheekily. "Perhaps I'm just everywhere." Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to deflat his ego. After all, he did saved her.

* * *

They walked on for another minute, chatting about the latest misadventures in Muggle London. Draco made a very good case about whether Eva Longoria was really pregnant.

"It couldn't be," he protested. "Look at how hot her body is." Hermione secretly agreed with him.

A minute later they passed a cheerfully bright convenience store. Draco excused himself, claiming he wanted a drink.

"From Seven-Eleven?" she joked. "What's wrong with Butterbeer?"

"Rescuing damsels in distress can make one thirsty," he chuckled.

Hermione watched as he walked away and stepped into the convenience store, thinking about what he said. There was truth, she admitted, in his words. She didn't exactly tell him the details of her date tonight. Yet he seemed to be everywhere she went by pure fate. Their first meeting in her café. That time in the bookstore. In Mr Bennet's tea leaves shop. Several times on the street. They never arranged to meet even once before, and yet, it was he out of all her acquaintances that she has been seeing most frequently.

Perhaps that was fate, she thought, smiling as she watched through the window pane as Draco paid for his purchases. She couldn't help but think how cute he particularly looked then, even under the terrible fluorescent lights of the store. He looked funny too.

Perhaps it was because she still wasn't used to this side of Draco yet, but the sight of him doing something so non-magical was so refreshing. She wouldn't mind seeing more of it.

"You are right," Hermione mused as Draco offered her a can of soda a minute later, when he strolled out of the store.

"I always am." He chuckled, wiggling his eyebrow.

"I will humour you this once," Hermione said, examining the brand of the soda. "What I actually meant was what you said earlier on."

"What did I say?" he asked, curious.

"About you being everywhere." She told him, pulling the tab off her soda without spilling any of it. She took a sip. It tasted like Vanilla.

"What about it?" He questioned distractedly, struggling to pull off the tab of his drink.

"Don't you think it's weird? Us bumping to each other all the time?"

"Do you?"

"It's strange to believe such chance of accidental meeting can exist." She told him. "But I think it's lovely that the world still has something like that left."

"You seem to believe entirely too much in coincidence," Draco winked at her as he popped open his can of soda. The fizzy drink burst right onto his face. Hermione laughed.

He scowled.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that. Haha some parts seem a little rushed too me, but I had a hard time amending it to make it sound decent… Reward me with a review or two? **

**I rather like the idea of introducing Narcissa Malfoy into this story. It makes it seem more quirky and real somehow. I am rather fond of her character really—it's always fun to have someone who is suppose to be all cool and calm being all panicky about Draco. I'm starting to like this version of Narcissa very much—the mother.**

**I think we will see us welcoming her or Prudence Bennet back next chapter**


	6. A Mother's Hope

**It took me almost five months to update this despite the fact that I already written the story. Amazing. I apologise if this chapter seemed messy or anything cause I really can't remember a lot of it and I basically pieced it from several incomplete files I saved it in. Forgive me?**

**I am absolutely sorry and I promise this wont ever happen because I finally upgraded my laptop so its so much faster now and less prone to crashing. Heh.**

**A Levels are finally over and I am eight months free from school (unfortunately my curriculum has been replaced by work and application writing) so hopefully my dates will be more frequent. Ha.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Annoyed as she was with certain friends (read: Ronald), Hermione still managed to repeat the entire date-disaster to them without, surprisingly, feeling a slightest hint of resentment. Far from it. In fact, she fancied it rather to be rather a relish, and enjoyed relating the entire fiasco to anyone she could tell.

This of course caused some kind of shock to her two best friends. Used to her coming back from a matchmaking session with a foul temper, Ron and Harry came over to her flat that very night of the disaster date in an attempt to pacify her, and both were astonished when she answered the door grinning from ear to ear.

Ron was convinced she was imperiused and demanded a full body-check. Hermione just told him cheerily to shut up.

Among her friends was a very new acquaintance by the name of Prudence. They became fast friends since the last visit to her cafe, and she often popped by Hermione's shop for a chat or some sort of gossip. Hermione liked her for her wit and company, Prudence liked Hermione for the exact same reason. Both were also united by their love of abusing Draco verbally.

Hermione enjoyed talking to Prudence Bennet. The redhead was a good listener and a loyal friend. She liked knowing someone so colourful and new that she hasn't already known her entire life. It was rather similar to eating a cheesecake—the old brownie is always good, but sometimes you like a twist in your desert.

"—And then the soda went all over his face!" Hermione laughed as she ended her story, giggling fondly at the memory of Draco drenched from head to toe. Prudence had dropped by again today, a few afternoons after the date, and she casually asked how it went. Hermione eagerly related the entire adventure to her, repeating enthusiastically a blow-by-blow account of what had happened.

Prudence laughed as well, but perhaps for another reason.

Prudence Bennet had known Draco, perhaps not her entire life, but long enough to understand him—he was an elusive character to say the least. But of late, Draco had become even more mysterious and vague, something which arouse the suspicions of his female friend. Though Prudence had whined and wheedled, the blond remained adamant about his increased visits to muggle London, citing it as business.

The redhead however was not as gullible as Draco seemed to presume she was (she felt miffed at that thought). She was utterly convinced about his inclination to a certain brunette. To her, it was also pretty obvious from the flush of her face that Hermione reciprocated his feelings. Instead, she chose not to say anything—not yet anyway. She enjoyed keeping a secret no one else knew of. Draco would just have to figure this one out (a revenge, she evilly thought, for playing dumb).

"Another story I could use to embarrass Draco. Thanks Hermione, I'm kind of running out of ammunition against him," Prudence added rather wickedly, stirring her cup of coffee, her chosen poison. Unlike her uncle, she favoured liquor that was much stronger than the milder tasting tea.

"Malfoy would never let me live if you do so. He did, after all, save me from that terrible narcissist. It was terribly lucky of me—for him to be there, I mean— for it would have been one of the worst days of my life-- " Hermione broke off suddenly, realising how breathless she sounded, feeling a bit puzzled.

Why was she so breathless? Why did she sound _like that_?

She looked up at Prudence, hoping that her friend hadn't noticed her strange behaviour, only to find her grinning rather widely.

"More coffee?" Prudence asked innocently.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had a rather relaxed morning. He woke up at nine today, prepared a simple breakfast of toast and jam, and lounged around the living room reading the last chapters of Atonement by Ian McEwan. Upon completing his book, he was left wondering about forgiveness, misunderstanding and what Hermione Granger would think of this book. He thought she might rather liked it.

As the clock struck one, Draco stood up from his seat and headed to the bathroom.

There was a stark change in his mannerism after he left the bathroom. He rushed to his closet and emptied half the contents to his bed, trying to decide what to wear. After 10 minutes of vexation, Draco finally decided on a black trousers and crisp grey shirt, slightly unsure about his selection. Upon ensembling the outfit on himself and viewing his reflection in the mirror, he changed his mind and took off the shirt immediately. With further contemplation, he fancied a white shirt instead and made a grab for the shirt. Still unsatisfied, he put on a black tie and tried to find his matching blazer without avail for the next five minutes. Said jacket was hung in the closet and said blond only realised it after. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wondered why he cared so much and berated himself and threw on a random shirt over his head. Looking at the clock, he swore for a while and finally left the house, wearing the original shirt he picked out.

Draco reached the café by two fifty panting, slightly later than he had planned. Pausing for a deep breath, he then entered the store and mill around the room looking for its owner, wondering where she might be.

He spotted her sitting at her usual red vinyl booth, in a slight daze. She was, in his opinion, particularly pretty today—the white floral dress she wore became her. Her curly hair was pulled back slightly with butterfly clips. The corners of his mouth tugged. She was adorable.

Feeling a slight leap in his heart, Draco slid into the seat opposite her, noticing nothing but her.

* * *

"Not thinking about Harvey are you?"

Hermione looked up, and saw Draco grinning at her. She felt her face warm a little, slightly embarrassed to be caught zoning out. She returned a smile to acknowledge it, knowing that he was teasing only.

"Draco," she greeted, noting that he looked nice in that grey shirt, even though there was a slight crease on it. She saw his gaze fell upon the two empty cups of coffee on the table. And a half eaten cheesecake.

"Prudence just left," she elaborated, gesturing to the cups.

He didn't question anymore, but simply acknowledge it by a nod.

"So what brings you here today?" she asked, trying to change the subject. She hoped that Draco wouldn't ask her why she was acting like so spacey two minutes ago.

"You are trying to avoid something," the blond observed, leaning back on the vinyl in a relaxed manner.

"If I am, I am not likely to tell you am I?" She said with a sly smile on her face. Draco laughed at that.

"Prue is starting to be a really bad influence," he said, shaking his head. "I can already tell with those cryptic signals."

"Maybe she is. So, really, why are you here?" she probed, leaning forward slightly as

she lifted her fork and took another bite of cake.

"Must there be a reason?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and gave him a long look.

"You are right though," he conceded, throwing his hand up in defeat. "I have a favour to ask of you. Well, not exactly a favour."

"Concerning?"

"A certain red head who sat here not too long ago," He said.

"What about?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Have you heard the line, 'All bad poetry springs from genuine feelings'?" Draco grinned roguishly.

"No," she answered slowly, wondering what he meant. And why was her heart hammering away like that when he mentioned that? Surely this was ridiculous.

"It's an Oscar Wilde quote." Draco elaborated. "Prudence loves poetry—well, usually. And another friend of mine does too."

"Who is it?" Hermione asked suspiciously, spying the big devious grin Draco was sporting.

"Blaise Zabini."

"Draco, please don't tell me we are matchmaking for Bennet." Hermione said deadpanned. Her partner nodded in affirmation, snickering.

"I thought she doesn't like the guy."

"They are perfect for each other. Very Benedick and Beatrice. And look at this." Draco shoved a colourful leaflet to her. Hermione glanced at it doubtfully.

_Need a Hanky? Or just fancy a hanky-panky?_

_Come down to Mr November's Poetry and Tea Session!_

_No rhyming experience needed. _

_14__Brown Street, London, Clemming's Bookstore. _

Hermione laughed. "Very cheesy and very appropriate," she admitted. Prudence Bennet would have a field day reading the pamphlet itself.

"Oscar Wilde compels me to think that with the poetry session would be a success."

"She will absolutely murder me for this," She laughed. "What do I do?"

"Just bring her down next Tuesday. I will be there with Blaise."

"And we run away later?"

"We pull a runner," he agreed, before suddenly looking down interestedly at the table. Hermione was about to ask how he found out about this poetry session, but she noticed Draco wasn't quite done with what he wanted to say. She paused, waiting for him to continue, wondering why he seemed so hesitant. He didn't speak for another minute. She waited.

Then, not quite meeting Hermione's eyes, he finally added, "And maybe afterwards, we can go for dinner."

It was _her_ turn to look at the table and turn as red as a poppy. She was determined not to look at her handsome companion, wondering how come she felt so dizzy with excitement and happiness at the same time.

"Well?" She heard Draco ask again when she did not respond. She looked up to find his gaze on her, so intense she could feel herself burn. His grey eyes were focused solely on her again. For a moment she could not speak, and a part of her fervently hoped that she was just dreaming.

But all the same, Hermione knew immediately what her reply was.

"Yes, I would like that very much."

Draco tried not to look too pleased.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy waited exactly one week before she couldn't stand the curiosity anymore. Then, disregarding whatever cool front she had been putting up for the past seven days, she finally abandoned any uninterested appearance, put on her best dress and set off from the manor to Muggle London.

* * *

"Hermione Granger."

Hermione perked up at the sound of her name—she was not imagining it. Someone was calling her, and much to her delight, this meant that she had company. The monotony of a scorching afternoon in her café was getting to her. Hastily she turned around with a beam on her face, eager to greet whoever it was.

Her smile faltered right then, replaced by surprise.

Narcissa Malfoy was standing right there, gazing straight at her calmly. The woman standing at the door was blond and uncharacteristically pale; her height framed by entrance at which she was standing—she looked almost exactly like Hermione remembered her, yet somehow slightly changed. But she would forever be tall and beautiful.

Hermione hadn't seen her for years, perhaps not since the end of the Great War. But it was Narcissa alright— the loftiness and composure was still recognisable. It was a Malfoy trait.

"Narcissa," she greeted warmly. Although she could not fathom why Draco's mother was here, nevertheless she was delighted at the appearance of a familiar face. She bore no grudges against this person. Her contributions to the war had been endless.

There was something about the woman before her that surprised Hermione though. Even with age she was still as devastatingly beautiful as before. She was pale as the moon, but not a trace of fragility did she bore. On the contrary, she was strong and held herself well, her lovely grey eyes reflecting determination in them. Granted she seemed nervous, but her stance did not waver. But it was not all these that stunned her; it was the fact that Narcissa Malfoy was smiling so brightly at her.

It was probably the first time Hermione had seen her showing any form of emotion.

"Please Hermione, let's have a seat." Narcissa said, gesturing to a table. Hermione acquiesced, and the both settled opposite each other.

Did I dress well?" Narcissa asked nervously, smoothing her clothing. She was wearing a pale plum crisp dress and a white jacket. It became her rather well, or maybe it was the smile on her face that suited her.

"It's my first time here, in Muggle London," she added, as if explaining.

Amazing, Hermione thought. It was the witch's first venture here and she looked impeccable. And people like herself had problems dressing halfway decent in the morning.

"You look well in them," Hermione assured her, amusement written all over her face. Perhaps, she thought with merriment, that this was a Malfoy trait as well. Draco was more often than not immaculate.

Relief was evident in Narcissa. "I wondered about what I had to wear all morning. I am not accustomed to wearing Muggle clothing, you see."

"You will get used to it if you come down more often."

"I hope I will have the opportunity to," Narcissa winked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. This, Hermione realized, was the key difference that made the Narcissa Malfoy in front of her so unrecognizable.

"I'm sure you will," Hermione replied, looking puzzled but not saying anything.

"I will."

"Would you like some tea?" she suddenly asked, unsure of what to do. Narcissa nodded. The ice in her seemed completely melted. She wasn't the aloof, silent person the wizarding word thought she was.

"I would love some."

"I must get you a cup then," Hermione told her politely, standing up from her seat.

"Of course, I wouldn't mind coffee either. I heard _so much_ pleasant remarks about the Columbian beans you used," Narcissa added conspiratorially. The gleam in her was obvious.

This caught Hermione off guard again, speechless. She docilely nodded, leaving the table looking more confused than ever.

As she returned to the table with the two heavy cups of coffee her companion thanked her. The both of them sat there silently for a minute. Narcissa was appreciating the aroma. Hermione was trying to figure out what was going on. Both were waiting.

"Look, Narcissa," Hermione interrupted finally. "I don't mean to be impolite or anything, but..."

"But you don't know why I am here," Narcissa finished matter-of-factly, looking directly at the dazed girl. She nodded.

"If I said I don't know, what would you do?" She asked lightly, putting down her teacup. Although not as restrained as before, Narcissa tried to remain in control as she would have. She silently watched Hermione's reaction

"You don't know?"

"If I don't know."

Hermione thought about this for a moment. Narcissa Malfoy had no reason to lie to her.

"I would ask you about Draco, then." The girl replied, beaming.

"He is, as usual, well enough to keep his mother perfectly worried about him," Narcissa told her, a sign of a near smile on her pale face. "Just yesterday he came in with three broken bones."

Hermione looked alarmed.

"Is he all right? What happened?"

Trying not to look too pleased or satisfied, she took another sipped of her tea, gazing again at the brown haired girl before answering. So she _did _care.

"Accidentally fell off a broom showing off a stunt."

Relief flood Hermione. She smiled.

"That sounds like him years ago," she said faintly, recalling the days in Hogwarts.

"And that is still him now," Narcissa frowned. "Mischievous and full of trouble."

"He will always remain like that, I hope," Hermione said, relaxing.

"Draco has an exceptional talent for such things," the blonde woman mused. "He is always up for some ranks and mischief. He hasn't changed since he was three."

"Not at all?"

"Only that the pranks get worse," she acknowledged, trying to hide a smile at the memory of her son. "Did you know," she added casually, "That ever since he got that wand of his, he would always jinx the house turquoise whenever he can?"

"Does he still?" Hermione smiled, trying to imagine. It was not hard, whether she tried to picture a three year-old Draco or a twenty-three year old one. He was exactly the type of person who would do that.

"Yes. Every opportunity. And the walls get more difficult to restore each time." Narcissa recalled with a smile. "But I got used to it."

"I should think so."

"But it makes him happy, so it makes me happy as well."

Something in Narcissa's tone made Hermione looked at her immediately. There was suppressed happiness and a hint of anxiety in the woman's throaty voice. The hints couldn't be more obvious this time. She did have something more to say.

Narcissa gazed at her directly now, suddenly motionless. Her intense grey eyes met Hermione's, as if searching for some kind of an answer. She had once again, caught Hermione off her guard.

"I do have a motive for coming," she admitted finally, not even attempting to break eye contact. Hermione waited for her to continue, sensing that she had not finished.

"I need to talk about my son."

Hermione felt slightly confused. They had _already_ been chatting about Draco for the past few minutes. Weren't they?

The pale face of Narcissa Malfoy seemed to have also read the baffled expression. She, for some reason, became even more excited, anxious if you will, at the sight of this. She made no more attempt to compose herself—an attempt that was surely out of her usual cool character.

"I need to know," Narcissa rushed, leaning in towards the shocked brunette.

"Know what?" she asked, still puzzled. The woman beside her was making no sense at all. She hadn't a clue what Narcissa was talking about.

Her white hands suddenly grabbed Hermione's from across the table, again betraying even more emotion than she had ever showed before. She had held Hermione's hands with a tight firm grip.

"But you must have already known," Narcissa stated, looking slightly quizzical. Then she understood—Hermione did not know what was going on.

"Known what?" She repeated, nervous this time.

Narcissa Malfoy sat up straighter this time, as if suddenly mindful of her behaviour, though the seriousness in her eyes remained. She seemed to regain her composure once more, but did not let go of Hermione's hand. She smiled at Hermione, still gazing at her intently.

"You must know what my son feels for you."

Narcissa Malfoy had left her house, trying to remain cool and void of emotions. She reminded herself not to scare the girl, and not overwhelm her with enthusiasm. It was not an easy task for the zealous mother; the eagerness of seeing Draco's object of affections—possibly her future daughter-in-law— made it difficult to restrain herself. Needless to day, she had failed.

Hermione thought she heard wrong. "Pardon me?" She asked faintly.

"My son is in love with you," Narcissa told her, smiling.

Hermione's heart fluttered. It was not possible, but why then did a rush of thrill run through her at the thought? She forced herself not to feel the blood rush to her head, firmly trying to remain calm.

"I am afraid you made a mistake," She replied, trying to sound natural. Instead she was stammering.

Narcissa shook her head, still smiling slightly.

"I am never mistaken. Not about Draco."

"Still—" Hermione tried to argue, but the blond woman was firm.

"I am his mother, Hermione. I have loved him for more than twenty years. I know him. And I know it is you," she said emphatically, smoothing her dress.

For a moment her brain couldn't process. The hammering in her heart when berserk.

"Believe me, Hermione," Narcissa said softly.

Hermione couldn't find any words to say. She was very tempted to trust Narcissa, but logic made her doubtful. It couldn't be. Draco never said anything to her to hint this, even if he did _look_ at her a lot.

"A mother's instinct is strong, Hermione. I have been watching him," Narcissa explained, "There is purpose and life in him now. Something that has been absent for a long time. You brought that to him."

"It is so obvious, sometimes I wonder how I almost missed it," Narcissa mused again. "There were the signs."

"Signs?" Hermione echoed blankly.

"The hints he made. The faraway look he sometimes has during dinner and those secret grins that are almost meaningful."

She remained silent, thoughtful as she tried to comprehend it.

"Then there was his extreme aversion to matchmaking," Narcissa pondered, laughing. "But recently it's gotten worse. He is reduced to resorting to extreme measures to keep the entire matchmaking community at bay. Now he terrorizes everybody."

Hermione laughed at this, remembering just weeks ago in the exact same booth did an extremely furious date threw a cup of coffee at him.

"And of course, there are the times he becomes breathless when he talk about you." And then she added, "Sort of the way you are now."

She sounded breathless? She suddenly remembered the time she talked to Prudence, when she thought she sounded like that too.

"Do I sound breathless?" She asked anxiously. But even as the words came out she realised she need not ask. Hermione could hear it—she _did_ sound breathless.

"Very much so," Narcissa assured her, smiling.

"I never realised," she said, her head beginning to feel lighter.

"People in love seldom do."

"I never thought about it." She said honestly, looking at Narcissa.

"Please think about it soon."

There was now something even more in Narcissa's voice that she had not recognised before. Desperation, Hermione realised. Desperation.

"Hermione, I am a mother. There are things that I long for that are out of my control most of the time. You wouldn't understand until you become one," Narcissa said, beaming. "I would love to have a grandchild. I would like a family again. And most of all, I would like Draco to be happy. And he is, with you."

"I didn't realise that I affected him so much," Hermione commented, slightly dazed.

"I didn't think that it was possible for him to ever fall in love," Narcissa said truthfully. The corners of her lips went up. "He was the most impertinent boy. But then he met you again, and I believe that he has finally become wiser. It's time for him to settle down."

"It is time, isn't it?" She smiled fondly, thinking about the changes Draco went through since Hogwarts.

"It is time," Narcissa agreed. "And I would love to have you as my daughter."

The word daughter brought the gravity of the situation back to Hermione. A flurry of feelings overwhelmed her, wondering whether it was true. Today seemed so surreal.

Narcissa stood up. She sensed that it was time to leave Hermione alone to figure it out.

"I have to go," she stated, reluctant to depart. "Please think about it."

"I will think about it," She promised, almost whispering. "Narcissa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really think it's possible for him to love me?"

"I know he does," she replied softly, kissing Hermione on her forehead. "And I am always ready to welcome you into our family."

With that, Narcissa left.

Hermione sat in her seat again with amazement and shock, unable to speak. The truth was, she now had no idea about how _she_ felt about Draco.

* * *

**Okay this chapter is slightly different from the rest I admit. Less light hearted I guess, but I hope it sits well with you guys.**

**Oh, and I wrote a Twilight oneshot. Do check it out and review!**

**I am so pissed. Have I mentioned that the Twilight movie will not be shown here until 18****th**** December? This is so not fair, especially when I have been waiting forever for it to come out. I bet half of you already seen it and the rest already watched it twice. I am miffed.**

**So throw a bone to me you guys and review.**


	7. Blaise and a Poem

**I apologise for the extra long hiatus. I solemnly swear it was not intentional.**

**Without further ado, this is the latest chapter of Over Tea Leaves and Coffee. Hope you will enjoy it!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione Granger was right. Prudence Bennet had a field day reading the cheesy poetry session pamphlet.

"Who the hell says hanky-panky these days?" Prue snorted, her frame shaking with laughter as she scanned the flyer. "And _hanky_?"

Hermione shrugged. "Beats me. An advertising trick. I sure can't imagine anyone ever saying that." She turned and cleared the empty cups on the table, before adding an afterthought. "Except Ron maybe."

Prue tossed the flyer aside, interest sparkling in her eyes. "Really?"

"He did say it once before," Hermione remarked absently. "When he tried to lecture Harry once before taking Ginny on their first date."

Her friend let out an appreciative laugh. "That is so pigheaded."

She nodded and tried to act in a casual manner. God, pretending and lying to her new friend was extremely difficult. "So what do you think?"

Queen of short attention span looked at her. "About what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took the pamphlet on the table and waved it.

"You are kidding me right?" Prue asked, who had a deadpanned look on her face. "To this?"

"I always wanted to see what it's like."

"Must we?" Prudence whined.

Hermione pulled her hands back to her hips.

"Fine," her friend sighed, snatching the brochure from Hermione. "I will go if it makes you happy. But _only_ because I like poetry."

The corner of her lips lifted. "As long as you go," she said happily.

"I don't think I want to know what it means when it says '_no rhyming experience needed'_' ," Prudence remarked.

* * *

She was reading a book on her bed that night when the phone rang. Hermione picked it up.

"Salutations to you," she said without thinking.

She was greeted by silence on the other side.

"Anyone there?" She said, finally putting down her book.

The air was suddenly flooded by masculine laughter that sounded smooth, like honey.

"God, you can't say hello like a normal person can you?" A male voice answered, chortling. It sounded familiar. And then it hit her.

"Draco Malfoy… You are using a telephone?" She asked, amazed.

"Hello to you too," he said dryly.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said, smiling. "I do believe the world is coming to an end."

"Why?" She heard a trace of humour in his voice.

"I'm actually on the telephone—the telephone!—with you. You!"

Draco snorted. "The telephone is hardly a twenty-first century contraption. Of course I know how to use it."

"I should have guessed. But the thought is funny. What's with the whole can't-greet-like-a-normal-person thing?"

"Granger. From the time we met until now, you have never used the word 'Hello' to greet me."

She tried to recall as quickly as she could.

"Let me refresh your memory. In Hogwarts you always avoided me or say something stupid like 'Malfoy, I'm slamming with a week of detention because I'm a prefect'. Then when we were re-acquainted you always greeted me with 'Draco'. Then we went pass the whole greeting stage and you demanded 'what was that all about' when I saved you from Barmy Harvey. The last time we met though we went back to the whole Draco stage again."

"I didn't slam a whole week of detention on you because I was a prefect," She protested, laughing. "I did it because I was Head Girl."

"So you are admitting that you never ever say hello to me?"

"Guilty," Hermione replied honestly. "I will be sure to say that next time."

"I will hold you to that," he promised. "What's with the weird greeting anyway?"

"What did I say?"

"You said 'Salutations to you'. Whoever says something like that?"

Hermione giggled slightly, twirling the phone cord with her pinkie finger. "I don't under normal circumstances. But Charlotte does."

"Who's Charlotte?" responded a curious voice.

"I was reading Charlotte's Web before you called," she explained. "The heroine in the book is a spider name Charlotte. When she greets anyone in the barn she lives in she always says 'Salutations'."

"Ah," Comprehension seemed to dawn in his voice. "Isn't that a children's book?"

"It is, but I enjoy reading them anyway."

"Don't tell anybody this then. I enjoy _The Tales of Despereaux_."

"You enjoy reading about talking mouse and rats and castles. God Malfoy, this is a perfectly good opportunity for extortion."

"To think I trusted you with my secret. I should never have called you."

"How did you get my number in the first place?"

"I'm an extremely resourceful person," Draco said triumphantly. "It doesn't take a lot of hard work to accomplish this feat when you know magic and have galleons."

"You paid someone?"

"Of course. The typical Malfoy way."

This time she couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Or," she laughed. "You could have checked the phone book for my number. Much easier and faster, I reckon."

"I embarrassed myself again didn't I?" Draco said good-humouredly. "I will remember that next time."

"I sure hope you didn't pay much for that."

"Depends on whose perspective."

"Why did you call me anyway?"

He chuckled, his smooth voice resonating through Hermione's phone. She admired the way it sound. The tone, the pitch. It appealed to her greatly.

"Can't I just call you up for a lovely chat?"

"Never answer a question with another question Draco. It doesn't work on me."

"How about this: I wanted you to be the victim of my phone call."

"Nope, can't be it," She said cheerfully. "You don't spend money looking for a person's number just so she can be your victim."

"Hard to fool are you?"

"Of course, I'm Hermione Granger."

"You are_ the_ Hermione Granger," he corrected. "And I'm calling to see if you asked Prudence to go for the poetry thing yet."

"What do you think?"

"You did? That was quick."

Hermione frowned slightly. "I never said I did."

"You didn't have to," The voice said smoothly. "Your tone said it all."

"I didn't sound anything but neutral!"

"Hermione," Draco said amusedly. "I can read you like a book. A children's book. I can tell."

"If you knew, why did you bother calling?" She asked exasperatedly.

"I didn't know until I heard your voice. Besides, I am Draco Malfoy. I don't leave things half done."

"Correction. You are the Draco Malfoy, and you are going to owe me one for this stunt."

"How was Prudence's reaction?"

"It went a lot better than expected," She informed him. "Of course, I can't say the same when she finds out about this entire twisted plot."

"Think of it as investment for the long run."

"If he is worth it."

"He is. And I fully intend to repay you with a lovely dinner afterwards, I promise."

_He promised_, she though. _He promised!_

"I plan to hold you to that," She said.

"I got a request though."

"What?"

"I would really like to see that red hat of yours again."

"I will think about it," she said coyly.

"I'm guessing from your tone that you are going to hang up on me." He laughed again.

"I am," she said as lightly as she could and hung up before he could say anything. She didn't trust herself to stop smiling.

And that was the end of Draco Malfoy's first ever phone call.

* * *

Hermione was the first to arrive that very fateful day. She stood across the street from the fateful bookstore where the poetry session will be held and peered at it. It seemed perfectly normal… On the outside at least. It gave her hope that the cheesy brochure was really some failed advertising trick on the store's part.

She waited for five minutes before she spotted Prudence Bennet strolling down the street. She wasn't exactly a hard person to miss with her deep red hair and lovely face. In fact, Hermione thought she looked very pretty in her light blue tea dress.

"Ready to head in?" Prudence cocked her head as she approached, looking at her slightly nervous friend. She made a motion to cross the road.

Hermione stopped her.

"I'm waiting for someone," she explained.

"Who?"

"Draco and his friend."

"He's coming?" Prudence had a sly smile on her face. "Why did you ask me to come then?"

She tried to ignore the redhead's insinuations.

"I said he and _his friend_."

"Okayyyy," She drawled out before throwing Hermione a teasing smile. "Let me pick up a bagel from the bakery though. I am hungry."

Hermione eyed her suspiciously.

"Don't bail on me," she warned as her friend flounce off and headed away from her.

"Don't worry!" Prudence called out before she disappeared round the corner. "I will be back… I think!"

She wondered how the redhead would react later, and sincerely hoped that her friend would not murder her on the spot.

She suddenly caught a flash of blond hair to her right.

And there Draco was a few feet away from her. Her breath hitched slightly. Was she imagining it, or did he look particularly handsome this evening? Somehow he managed to look extraordinary in that plain red shirt and dark pants he was wearing. And his eyes—they were sparkling!

Hermione realized that it was going to be a difficult task to get through this evening.

"Hello," she greeted him, unable to stop the smile on her face. Hello. A gentle reminder that she had not forgotten what he said over the phone, and that was a flash of recognition in his eyes.

He gave her a crooked grin, and it looked becoming on him. What didn't?

"Good evening," He returned the polite greeting. "I see you can finally greet me like a normal individual."

"Don't expect it too often. I don't give special treatments," she joked. He smiled back at her.

"I deserve every bit of that special treatment," he said meaningfully. "Or I just have to find a way to earn it."

"Keep working at it."

"You wore your red hat," he said approvingly.

She did. She wanted nothing more than to please him.

"I did," she said simply, and the both of them smiled at each other.

She heard a slight cough in front of her. A dark-haired man was glancing amusedly at them. It was then she suddenly realized that they were not alone. Oh. _Oh._

She felt her cheeks warm, and was surprised to see the same reaction on Draco's face.

"Hermione," he said, still blushing. "This is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, the Gryffindor I have been talking about."

The Blaise she remembered in school was a boy who was cheeky and bold. From what she could recall he spent a lot of school nights in detention for one prank or another. Smart of course, but mischievous. And he got a kick out of it.

The man in front her was exactly that. He still had that black hair and slightly pale skin. And the slight dimple near his chin. High cheekbones. He was a little taller than Draco, and was certainly muscular. He was every bit as good-looking as he was years ago. Perhaps better.

But the smug smile on his face was there. She recognized it instantly—the same one he used when he stole Filch's cleaning supplies.

"Hermione," Blaise said in a deep voice, bowing suavely. "So we meet."

"We do." She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow—his signature look. He recognized it, and chuckled, and then copied her pose. Or his pose, rather.

"So this is the little tyke my best friend has been running off to see," Blaise said conversationally, as if talking about an entirely innocent topic. She wasn't fooled—his mad twinkling eyes told her. He was Blaise Zabini, master of shenanigans, king of dodging. She didn't expect anything less.

"And this is the squirt who Draco tries to set Prudence up with?" She responded with a smile and a quick look at a nodding Draco. "My, my."

"This is the man who is pursuing Prudence Bennet," Blaise corrected, laughing. "The lovesick swoon, the mad man. Take your pick."

"I pick all."

"Fiesty."

"I thought that's how you like them," she countered.

"True," Blaise acknowledged. He winked at Hermione. "And apparently Malfoy and I are not so different after all."

Draco shot a dirty look at the dark-haired man. He shrugged.

Hermione's heart skipped another beat. She never did tell Draco about Narcissa's visit to her store. He had absolutely no clue.

She tried to find another distracting topic.

"So you like Prue ?"

"Of course." Blaise grinned, not bothering to deny it. His pose was natural and not one bit uncomfortable. "What's not to like?"

Draco smirked, glad he could finally be included into this conversation. "Ever since he saw her months ago at his aunt's party."

Hermione turned to Blaise who flashed another toothy grin. He was extremely charming, she had to admit. She had always liked him. He was unaffected and artless, like Draco.

"Oh?"

"She was on the center of the mini stage of the party when I first saw her," Blaise said conversationally, his hands shoved his pockets. "There was some sort of live band. My aunt like that kind of stuff for some weird reason. They had been playing that dreadful classical Warlock music all night. You know, the ones that made Binn's class interesting."

"How does it sound like?"

"A mix between the ghouls in the dungeons and a flushing toilet."

Hermione giggled.

"It was terribly boring. The entertainment was pretty much non-existent," The black-haired man continued, his eyes sparkling. "And then suddenly, this really pretty redhead just climbed on the stage, and asked _really_ loudly whether they knew _any _Backstreet Boys song."

"That sound like Prue," Hermione laughed controllably. The blond man beamed as well.

"Needless to say, I lost my heart to Prudence Bennet that very moment, when she shocked all the middle-age foggies with her request for some muggle pop. I couldn't resist- I went to introduce myself to her."

Draco chuckled. Blaise glared at him.

"What happened?" Hermione asked curiously.

Blaise sighed. "She threw her wine at me."

"Why?"

"Apparently she found out I hired the band," He shrugged. "It seemed funny at that time."

She rolled her eyes. What else did she expect?

"And then—"

"There's more?" She asked incredulously.

Draco tried hard not to grin. "This is the part where it gets worse," he assured her.

"How can it get worse?"

"She heard me made a lewd remark about her," Blaise said mildly.

"He said to one of the other guest 'I would bang her like there's no tomorrow right there'."

Prudence Bennet would never take that as a compliment. She understood.

"She demanded that I apologised. And that I told her not to live her name and be a prude."

"She didn't like the pun."

"Obviously," Blaise said, but added an afterthought. "Then again, I like girls feisty."

Draco glanced at his friend, amused. "You will never win her like that."

"I will do my best. I won't give up."

"Even if it takes ten years?" Hermione asked. Blaise looked directly at her and met her gaze.

"Even if it takes a hundred," he said seriously, but smiled. "What can I say? I am completely besotted with her."

Draco threw a small punch at his friend. "That was when I knew he was the one for our saucy friend."

"If it comes to the worse, I will wheedle and whine until she gives in and goes out on a date with me," he said goodhumouredly.

She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm saying this, but I really hope that Prue does go out with you.

"Glad to have your blessings madam," he saluted, giving a deep bow. "It means a lot to me. Although no matter what, Prudence Bennet is destined to become the future Mrs Zabini."

* * *

Hermione spotted her friend strolling out of the bakery and walking towards her. A look of incredulity was evident in her porcelain face.

"What," she demanded, looking at Blaise, "Is he doing here?"

Hermione wasn't so sure whether she was talking to him or Draco. But she decided to answer anyway.

"I did say Draco was bringing a friend," she reminded her friend.

"Hello," Blaise smiled at her. It was at this time that Hermione noticed that a change in Blaise. A minute ago he was collected and relaxed, leaning against the lamppost in a composed manner. Now he lookedsomehow different. Blaise looked bright and excited He was actually _beaming_ and looking all jubilant.

Plainly he was very much attracted to her.

Prudence ignored him.

"You didn't say it was him!" She hissed, folding her arms across her chest. A small part of Hermione's brain took in that insignificant detail and registered it was similar to Blaise's. She smiled.

"You didn't ask."

"You knew I wouldn't come if he was here!"

She had a wicked look on her face. "That's why I didn't tell."

Draco ruffled the redhead's hair. "Red, we are doing this for your own good. Besides, your grudge is extremely unbecoming on you."

"I will leave."

Hermione put on her best pitiful expression. "Please?"

"Why should I?"

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand in an inspiration. "Would you please stay for a moment? I really don't want to go home soon…"

Her voice trailed meaningfully at Draco and her clasped hand. Prudence's gaze followed and softened.

"Well…" she hesitated, biting her lip.

Blaise suddenly stood in front of Prudence. His eyes were fixed on her.

"Prudence," he addressed her earnestly. "I know we had some sort misunderstanding from before, but I hope you will find it in you to forgive me. I'm sorry for whatever distress I have caused you."

She eyed him. "You are laying the charm thick aren't you?"

He grinned. "Am I caught?"

A small smile tug of her cherry lips. "It's working. Please to meet you, I'm Prudence Bennet." She stretched out her hand.

Blaise took it and gave it a kiss. "Blaise Zabini, your future husband."

Prudence laughed for some reason. "You wish,"

He winked. "I do."

The redhead smirked. "Let's just stop the flirtation and go. With any success we will make it there… And witness some 'hanky-panky'."

Blaise snorted at the cheesy quote and offered his arm to Prudence. Hermione and Draco trailed after them (who were now talking-slash-bantering in a very animated manner) with an excited smile on their face.

All the time though, Hermione was wondering whether Prudence felt tingles in her arm when she held Blaise's hand as she did when she touched Draco's.

* * *

The store was eclectic-looking. The furniture was highly mismatched, and there were random colourful rugs thrown all over the cheap wooden floor. And of course there were rows and rows of books, many looking as if they had been there for years. Somewhere at the back of the store lay a sleek shiny laptop.

About fifteen people inside, seating in foldable plastic chairs all around a little wooden box that acted as a raised platform. The people were surprisingly normal looking. There didn't seem at all like the type who would respond to such cheesy flyers. Not all, anyway.

The four of them took some seats at the back. Beside her Draco was examining the painting at the wall with interest. Prudence and Blaise were sitting beside each other, chattering away. Apparently all animosity on Prue's part mysteriously disappeared. Hermione heard the words "drunk" and "Quidditch" and decided she didn't want to know.

Draco took another look at the painting on the wall and caught Hermione's eye. He gave her an apologetic look.

"Job hazard," he explained with a huge chuckle.

"Anything good?" She asked, eyeing the piece of art. It was one of those impressionism paintings, with a little girl sitting in the middle of the field. Pretty, she supposed.

He shook his head. "It's just a Paul Cezanne print. Not an original."

"I can't really tell," she admitted. "I like it base on whether it looks nice or not."

Blaise heard the end part of their conversation

"Nothing wrong with that," he chimed. "After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And I certainly wouldn't like one of those ugly terrifying piece of modern art in my sitting room."

Prue raised an eyebrow. "So you rather have those cheap fifteen dollar print than a Damien Hirst original?"

"I never had the eye to appreciate art," he shrugged. "And I don't pretend to. So I guess the answer is yes."

Prue looked at Blaise admiringly. "And here I was, thinking that you are some pretentious rich boy who believes in snob value."

"Don't blow my cover as an Ikea painting fan." Blaise winked.

Draco whispered in Hermione's ear. "Funny how they manage to turn this into their own conversation."

She snorted. "I don't even think they realized that they have barge into our personal speech bubble and taken over our discussion."

"Despite the rocky start, I believe that everything is going well."

"I hope so," she agreed.

"They look good together, don't they?"

Hermione glanced past him at her friends again. There were still engaged in some highly wild conversation that nobody but the two of them apparently understood.

"They do," she smiled. There was no denying it once you got about the strangeness of the couple. Hermione never thought the sensible Prudence would go after someone so un-serious as Blaise Zabini. It was like mixing strawberry ice cream with peanut butter. But somehow it worked.

She shouldn't have found it strange though. They were both rebels at heart and extremely mischievous creatures. And they did make an exceptionally good-looking couple. An unconventional couple.

"Blaise looks ecstatic," she commented.

He did. Even she could tell. The man had a boyish smile on his face.

"So you approve?" Draco questioned.

"Of course," She smiled. "I think is quite obvious that he is, and I quote, 'besotted with her'."

"So it doesn't matter than Prue isn't nearly as charmed as he is?"

Hermione gave him a look. "Are you blind?" She jerked her head in the direction of their friends. Prudence was shamelessly flirting with Blaise, who was only happy to return the gesture.

A tiny man stood up on the tiny platform and interrupted their conversation. The poetry session had started. Someone raised his hand, with a piece of notebook size paper in his hand.

"Hmm. But I see your point," Hermione said quietly to Draco as the stranger went up on the makeshift stage and recited a ripped-off e.e cummings poem. "Blaise is obviously the more willing participant in the relationship."

"Doesn't that disturb you?"

"_He said! And I said!— "_ boomed from the stage.

Hermione thought about it. "Not really. It is really the beginning of their relationship – if you can call it that—so far. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that one of them is in really deep."

"_And they said!—"_

"Perhaps Blaise is just flirting with her." Draco suggested mildly. Hermione looked at him strangely.

"He isn't."

"And you know this?"

"From the way he looks at her. And he isn't afraid to admit he likes her. Most of all, he isn't embarrassed to be the one who loves more."

"_But then there!" _

"Maybe some are afraid of rejection." He murmured.

"Maybe. But how is she supposed to know how he feels?"

"She can guess?"

She shook her head.

"Not all people are good guessers."

"_The divine said—" _

"And this is your opinion?" Draco whispered.

"What?"

"That someone must show their affections by proclaiming their love?" Draco was staring intensely at her now. It made her slightly uncomfortable.

"It's not that. He just has to… be unafraid to show the world how he feels. To wear his heart on his sleeves." She paused. "To take risks even if it hurts in the end. Like Blaise. He doesn't care about that. He knows what he wants, and isn't afraid to get it."

"To be unembarrassed by it?"

The conversation was turning stranger every minute.

"Well," she responded confusedly. "If you really love someone… isn't he or she worth fighting for?"

"_Mary did not exclaim but said!"_

"A man shouldn't be afraid to show how he feels?"

"If he really loves me."

Draco was no longer listening. He just looked at Hermione.

"Yes," he finally said. "You are right."

The man on the small stage finished his poem. The room burst into polite applause.

"I don't think I ever heard so many exclamation marks and 'said' in a poem," Prudence muttered. Blaise was laughing.

A man who appeared to be the store owner stood up. He was fifty and wore checked tie and pants. "Well done!" He boomed. "Any other brave souls?"

To her surprise, Draco stood up confidently and walked to the platform.

"I do," he winked at her. "I wrote this on my own."

"Brave chap!" The owner complimented.

"I'm afraid it isn't very well written, so I apologise in advance," he said. He didn't pull out any piece of paper. "But I meant it with all my heart."

_"__Excuse me for the lack of better adjective_

_Words tend to fail me at this_

_As I pen my thoughts, my feelings_

_Into a diary._

_A pale attempt to capture the precise imagery _

_When the rest of the world fades_

_And only the vision of you remain_

_But the pen stopped as I realized it was useless_

_Because. _

_It does not compare to you._

_Or the vividness of that lovely day_

_It's a perfect memory_

_That will remain and stay, and stay_

_Of that day_

_When I sent compliments to your hat_

_I can only call it— _

—_Red."_

His poem. He had said it and Hermione heard every word of it. The audience was clapping wildly and she couldn't hear them at all. Only the echo of his words.

It did not escape her notice, or anyone else's, that she was wearing a red hat.

_It does not compare to you. _

Draco was in front of her.

"Shall we go?" he smiled. He held out his hand.

In a daze she nodded, and Hermione Granger allowed him to pull her out of the bookstore, away from the happy crowd and stunned friends.

* * *

**So what did you think? I hope this shows you the significant progress of Draco and Hermione's relationship… Or at least I tried to make it that way. I wrote Draco's poem too. Hoped you liked it. I wished FF would allow nice paragraphing, because the poem makes less sense without it...**

**Oh, and I have a new Twilight story called Lovers, Again. Check it out and review! I think I will be updating that next week. It's a promise!**

**Another news. I have recently opened a Facebook account. I know, how lag am I to be now when the rest of the world started years ago. I didn't even do it until my friends forced me to. Perhaps I'm a techno-resistant. **

**Anyway I would love to make more friends so if you want to FB me, do leave your email or something in your review or PM and I will try and add you! I would love having some ff friends around, so yeah.**

**And as usual, Read and Review!**


	8. First Times

**Oh my god I updated (Cheers for myself!) I seriously did. I can't believe it either. How on earth did I find time to type this I don't know.**

**But enjoy. **

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* * *

  
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She had never felt so lightheaded and clear at the same time. Something about the night air made her intoxicated as they ran down the streets away from the stunned crowd and bookstore. Or perhaps it was Draco's warm hand that made her feel that way.

Hermione tried not to enjoy the moment too much.

She could feel the callus of his hand. It was not soft like she expected at all- it was hard and even slightly rough. Coarse even.

For some reason this delighted her. So Draco Malfoy was not God after all. He was not some perfect fictitious character Hermione had made up. He was every bit as human as her, and every bit real. He felt… solid.

Hermione berated herself for not finding a better vocabulary word at this moment. All those years of education, and she could only describe him as solid.

They slowed down to a walk eventually, but Draco did not let go of her hand. If anything the handsome man held it even more firmly. Hermione didn't have the heart- or the concentration – to protest.

She tried to divert her eyes away from their clasped hands, reminding herself it wasn't polite… Only of course, her attention fell right to said charmer's face.

"Enjoying the night?" Draco asked smilingly. One strand of his blond hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it back slightly.

"Oh yes!" Hermione gushed, unable to hold back her feelings. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"No hints?" she prompted.

"Nope." He popped the 'p' resoundingly.

"You are absolutely aggravating. Can't I ever get a straight answer out from you?"

He winked at her. "We shall see."

She couldn't resist it then. She did a very un-Hermione gesture—she winked back.

"So I shall."

* * *

Five minutes later, Hermione was watching Draco, who was busy arguing with the waiter outside some chic expensive French restaurant.

"But I swear I placed reservation!" Draco insisted to the head waiter (who atypically had a thick moustache)

"I am sorry, monsieur," the head waiter said in a grave thick accent, shaking his head devastatedly as he scanned the book again. "I do not see zee name anywhere, non."

"It can't be," the blond said frustratedly while Hermione watch the scene unfold. "I called yesterday confirm the tables!"

The waiter scanned through the black book again. "Aah… Monsieur Draco Mal-foy?"

A look of relief appeared on Draco's face. "Yes, that's the one," he agreed.

The French waiter frowned. "But…Eez eet not a tableaux for two tomorrow night?"

"It's supposed to be tonight!"

"Monsieur," the waiter looked at them sadly. "Eet eez full, desolee."

Hermione watched the entire exchange laughingly. She knew that she should have been angry with the mix up, or even with Draco for not confirming his reservation properly. But she was not. Instead she felt extremely amused at the entire conversation and exchange. It was funny to see someone as smooth as Draco mess up for once.

She smiled. He looked extremely cute when he quibbled childishly with the waiter. He even stomped his foot a little, looking put out and desperate. Another new side of Draco.

"Forget it Draco," She said lightly, cutting the entire exchange short. At this rate, the dinner was never going to take place.

He frowned. "But-"

She grabbed Draco's hand and nudged him. "We will just make alternative arrangement. Sorry for the mix up though. Au revoir!"

"Au revoir, mademoiselle!" the waiter called out to Hermione, who was dragging her date down the street. She waved back.

They plod on for another few minutes before Hermione felt something weighing her back. She frowned, turning back to look at her partner. Was she moving at such a fast speed that he couldn't catch up?

Draco was smiling too widely, staring at her in wonder.

She stopped completely. "What?" she asked.

His grin got larger if possible. He looked like an idiot, a cute idiot.

"This is the first time you ever held my hand."

Hermione snorted. "Have you forgotten the moment we left the bookstore? Approximately…twenty minutes ago?"

"I didn't forget. How can I?" He said reminiscently. He fingers was slowly playing with the lines of her palm. "But _I_ was the one who held your hand."

She smiled. "Is there a difference?"

"Of course there is," He said, affronted. "Theoretically the results are the same, but of course there is a difference. The fact that you are the one who held my hand indicates something."

She tilted her head, redrawing her hands so that they were on her hips. "Which is?"

He tried to hide his pleasure. "Well, it indicates you have some sort of affections for me."

"Really?" She said sarcastically. "It wasn't obvious the way I followed you out of the bookstore?"

"That was unfounded assumption. But this," He gestured happily. "Is _proof_. Proof of your affections."

Hermione privately congratulated herself for not turning red.

"Try to show some sense of humility would you?"

"Never." He said smugly. "What's there to be embarrassed about?"

She sighed. "Fine. Be that way."

"And don't put your hands on you hips. It makes them look wider." He joked.

She scowled while he grabbed her hand once more and entwined it with his fingers. Once again she felt a warm heat flooding through her.

He lifted their hands up to eye level for her to see.

"There. It looks better this way," He said, satisfied. And they continued walking, hand-in-hand.

"Where are we going anyway?" He inquired.

"Down the street." Hermione said with a deadpanned face. He rolled his eyes.

"Funny. Where are we really going?"

She enjoyed having the upperhand now. She winked at him just like he did before. Revenge is sweet.

"It's a surprise," She mimicked his earlier words.

Draco groaned at that. "Stop reminding me of that incident in the French restaurant."

"It's not my fault you have poor planning."

"I still lament at the demise of my dining plans. It was going to be perfectly romantic and cheesy until the reservation got mixed up."

"It wasn't the kind of place I thought you would bring me on a first date."

He smiled. "You imagine having a first date with me?"

She ignored this again, willing herself not to blush. "Surely I don't look like a person who would love to have a first date there?"

"You don't. But you deserved having a great treatment and expensive date."

"I'm not high maintainance, you know." Hermione laughed.

"You aren't, but you certainly are worth every penny of it." Draco said firmly. "Besides," he added, a little confused, "Don't all women enjoy having a French restaurant meal on their first date? The movies certainly seem to show that a lot."

"You should have enough experience to know that it never works." She stated, grinning a little. Someone took Muggle movies too seriously

"No experience at all," He grinned. "This is my first date ever."

A stunning confession, Her eyebrows shot up disbelievingly at the handsome man. Who wouldn't want to date him?

"You are kidding," she said, startled.

"No," Draco assured her. "But then again, I never had a reason to. Until now."

She tried to cut in. "Are you serio—"

"We will talk more on that later," he said. "We have all the time in the world to talk to."

Her heart skipped a beat again. She needed to blurt something out before the beating of her heart got too loud. She will not feel flattered. She will not feel flattered. She will not feel flattered.

"We are going to my shop," she suddenly said. "We are going to my café to have our date."

For some reason this information seemed to make Draco uncomfortable. Hermione saw him shift out of the corner of her eye.

"How about we try that nice Italian food down the corner?" He suggested. "They offer a twenty percent discount on weekends."

She rolled her eyes a little. "It's a weekday."

"How about we head to… McDonald's?"

"McDonald's?" She asked suspiciously, looking at him. "You want to bring me to McDonald's? Besides, we are reaching there in a minute. Why are you being so nervous?"

She turned back her head back… and found the answer staring back at her.

Her coffee shop was nothing short of normal-looking. Apart from the candles lights, soft music, helium balloons at the front, and streamers decorating the shop front.

Her mouth was dry as she turned her head to her date. He looked pink at the cheeks.

Mr Bennet, the very same one whose niece was with a dashing Slytherin right now, was standing on the ladder, hanging some silver streamers. He froze when he saw the couple heading towards him.

"Here so soon?" he frowned, peering through the glasses. "I'm not done with the decorations yet."

Hermione's heart refused to stop pounding. This was possibly the most romantic thing ( or would have been) that anyone has ever done for her.

"Draco… what is this?" she asked, needing confirmation.

He sighed. "This is why I'm insisted on dining somewhere else. We were supposed to be having a perfectly nice place and head here for dessert, where you will this surprise waiting for you. Dang."

"Well," She said puzzledly. "You could have dragged me away a long time ago. It's kind of obvious I was heading towards here."

He paused.

"I was distracted by your little hand holding. Very distracted"

The old man chuckled as he descended the ladder. "Didn't go as planned did it?"

Hermione laughed. "Apparently not."

"Well, I will leave you two lovebirds alone again. My job here is done. Good day to the both of you." He bowed deeply before ambling down the streets.

"Darn."

She tilted her head. "What's wrong?"

"This was supposed to be the perfect date. But somewhere in my meticulous planning everything went wrong." Draco grumbled.

"Well technically only one thing went wrong," she teased.

"Don't remind me." He looked slightly troubled.

"Draco," She paused as the blond man gazed back at her. She needed to find the right thing to say. The truth then, she decided. "To me, the date has been nothing short of perfect so far."

"How can you say that?" He quirked an eyebrow. "I brought you on your first date to _your _coffee shop."

"Well, I like that you are not perfect. The fact that you stumble," She smiled. "It makes you more real."

The man broke into a boyish smile. "Really?" He said impishly.

"Besides, it is perfect as long as I am with you. Now let me _distract_ you with some handholding."

And just like that, Hermione Granger grabbed Draco Malfoy's hand for the second time and pulled him into her coffee shop.

* * *

Hermione forgot she didn't serve any main courses at her place, so she ended up dialing for Chinese food takeaway. Twenty minutes later, they were happily settled in one of the booths, plastic containers and confused customers surrounding them. For some reason Draco had dragged her to this particular seat.

Draco was looking at her expectantly as she slid into the seat opposite him.

"What?" She asked, feeling self conscious.

"Just so you know… This is where we met for the first time."

Yes it was, she suddenly realized. It seemed to her that it was yesterday when he popped into her and asked for a cup of tea.

Hermione smirked while prying open a box of spring rolls. "No, that would be on the Hogwarts train, when Ron's rat bit you."

"Ouch. Shall I rephrase? This is where we got reacquainted." He grinned. She passed him a box of lou mein.

She raised an eyebrow, stabbing a roll with her wooden chopsticks. "Aren't I supposed to be the girl in the relationship? I should be saying all these funny random facts, not you."

"That's true. But you seem to like wearing the pants, so I think I will take the girl role in this dysfunctional relationship."

"Better. Now we can on with the talking."

"Do you usually dictate your dates like this? Or is this your hidden Mussolini channeling?" He asked teasingly.

"What can I say? You just told me I'm the male counterpart in here. I'm just playing the chauvinist." She quipped.

"Well then, what would you like to know?"

"I'm curious… Is this really your first date?" She asked.

He smiled. "Yes. Excluding those blind dates I have been subjected to."

"That's impossible."

"Why is that?" Draco asked, his eyes widening a little. Hermione wondered whether the innocent look on his face was genuine. She sighed.

"Mister, as much as I hate to say it… You weren't exactly unpleasant to look at back in school."

He scoffed. "Weren't exactly unpleasant to look at? Is that all you can say? I was termed the Slytherin God for goodness sake!"

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, way to go to boost your ego."

"Can't deny facts. There, you can admit it."

She played stupid. "Admit what?"

He grinned, leaning forward. "That I am good looking."

Hermione was stubborn. "Why should I say that?"

"Because it's always nice to hear a compliment from someone you like."

"Fine. I think you are good looking and dashing," she admitted.

"Thank you. I happen to find you extremely pretty as well. You look very beautiful when you blush."

She blushed.

"See? I told you that you are very pretty when you turn red." He said, admiring the colour on her apples

"You are digressing. Whatever happened to Pansy? Or any of the other Slytherin girls?"

"Rumours."

"You dated absolutely no one at all?"

"Not a single one."

"Are you sure?" She asked doubtfully. Draco gave her a Cheshire grin.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes."

"Oh well. You should be honoured then," he replied. He took another bite of his lou mein.

She was. Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered. She tried not to dwell on this pleasant fact.

"Why not anyway? Try dating someone, I mean?" She asked. She diverted her eyes to the small hole on her dress.

"And suffer the likes of Pansy Parkinson and the rest?" He snorted. "No thanks." A pause. "Besides," he continued, finally catching her gaze when she looked up. "I told you before. I never had a reason to… Until of late."

Another flush of pleasure. "Let's just stop talking until we finish our meal," she suggested.

A devilish smile graced Draco's face. "Oh no, Granger," he laughed, pushing his plastic box of noodles away. "The conversation is just getting interesting."

"Is it?" She feigned again and tried to poke another egg roll. A pair of callus hands pushed it away.

"So tell me," he said deeply, his gray eyes sparkling. "How many boyfriends do you have so far?"

"Isn't it taboo to talk about this on a first date? I believe all those Witch Weekly articles constantly stresses this as bad dating etiquette."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Well bringing you to a dining place you owned for first date is bad etiquette, but you don't seem to mind. What's wrong with bending a few more rules? So spill."

Hermione smiled. This was an answer she knew by heart—or at least, the drilling of her relatives.

"Three."

His eyebrow shot up. "Three?" he said. "That is promiscuous... relatively. Who are they?"

"Jealous?" She asked teasingly. She was enjoying this conversation too much.

"Hardly," He scoffed. "Just curious, in case I ever need to try out a new spell I learnt. I need future references."

"Viktor Krum."

"Ha!" Draco cried out. "I knew there was something going on between the two of you in fourth year."

"I wouldn't deny it if you had asked me. Heck, the whole school knew about it."

"Those were just rumours, I thought."

"No," Hermione said with a neutral expression on her face. "I just happen to _love_ going to Yule Balls with people I totally detest, and Viktor so happened to ask me."

"Funny," he smiled. "I went with Pansy."

She frowned. "I remembered. I thought you said this was your first date, and that you weren't interested in her."

"I wasn't. But she offered to do my homework for the next three months. I couldn't possibly refuse such an attractive offer."

"That night was fun," Hermione said reminiscently, toying with one of her curls. "You look like a vicar that day."

"High collars were the height of fashion!" he said offendedly. "And how could you possibly have fun with someone who barely speaks English?"

"I taught him a bit of pronunciation," she said earnestly. "That was enjoyable, you know, international relations."

"You got to be kidding me." His face was mock serious.

"Besides," she said evilly. "Were words really necessarily with Viktor? I'm sure you know he is more… physical."

Hermione could detect a note of alarm in his voice. "You got to be kidding me!"

"I am. But it was worth it to see the expression on your face." She giggled. Draco scowled.

"So why did you break up?" The blond asked, stabbing his food viciously. The wooden chopstick broke. She laughed and passed him another pair.

"Too much difference. Language barriers. The fact that I don't speak Quidditch," she shrugged. "Height difference. I was 5"4 then, he was hitting 6"3. Not a good combination."

"I'm just a head taller than you. Or less," Draco noted, satisfied.

"He was awfully nice about the break up though. I still keep in touch with him when I can," she continued, eager to see his reaction. She wasn't one to play games, but Draco was making this mild flirtation too fun.

His reaction did not disappoint.

"Awfully nice my foot," he mumbled. "Probably hoping to guilt you out of it."

"Viktor is not like that!" She protested. This was true. She found the famous sportsmen extremely generous and chivalrous.

Malfoy didn't seem to buy the story, but he nodded anyway.

"So who is the second?"

"A muggle named Ben Walters. He interned in my father's dentist office and we dated during the summer. Nothing much about that one. He was smart and had a nice smile."

"I am smart and have a nice smile."

The corner of her lips twitched. "Perhaps that's why I like you."

"Not any of my other superior qualities? I am disappointed. So why did you dump this muggle?"

"Mutual decision. We lost interest in each other after a while."

"No exciting scoop?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Well, the third one better be some hot gossip."

Hermione scoffed. "This is rich, coming from someone who is on his first date ever. But yes, it is a more… colourful character."

"Who?"

"Guess."

"I am praying it isn't Ronald Billus Weasley."

"It isn't. Thank goodness I don't have poor taste. Excuse the pun."

"Not Potter."

"No. I wouldn't do that to Ginny."

"Dean Thomas."

"Nope."

"Longbottom."

"Nuh-uh."

He threw his hands up. "I have absolutely no idea," he admitted. "Just tell me."

"Be prepared to be surprised," she whispered, cupping her hands around his ear. She saw his ear pricked slightly from- anticipation?- as she paused. "_Zachary Smith."_

The response was not instantaneous.

"Smith?"

She nodded her head. "Yes."

"As in, Zachary Smith? The Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, as in Zachary My-head-is-over-inflated Smith."

"Why on earth would you date _him_?"

Draco's eyes were practically popping out, and his jaws were wide open. Hermione laughed heartily. He looked comical.

"Close your mouth, you will catch flies," she told him, reaching towards Draco and tilting his jaw up. He closed it obligingly.

"You didn't answer my question," he observed.

"I was momentarily distracted by how ludicrous you look," Hermione said. She twisted her napkin. "If you must know… Well, it was his good looks."

"You would date him over me?"

"No," she admitted. "But back then I didn't exactly had a choice between the two. But even you have to admit he was good looking."

"I won't." He shook his head firmly.

"Come on," Hermione pressed on. "He had the perfect boy looks… The whole dark-hair-blue-eyes thing going. The sort women like to see on romance books covers."

"He had a personality of a Crumple-horn snorkack." Draco said bluntly.

"Well, I was young," Hermione explained. "It didn't exactly occur to me straight away. I was still swooning over his looks."

"How did you guys even start a relationship? I can't imagine you are the one asking him." Draco shuddered visibly at the thought.

"Well," Hermione tried to remember. "I think we met at some autograph signing session at Flourish and Botts. He was working as a reporter at Daily Prophet."

"Suits him very well. He always was a nosey parker."

"I met him there. And he looked too good to be true. And he seemed to have changed for the better, or toned it down a bit anyway. So when he asked me out, I agreed."

"And that was went you make your big blunder."

She sighed. "He seemed so charming at that time. A few months later, he was demanding everything. Where I was every minute, and witnesses to proof I wasn't lying. Started probing about Harry, Ron… So I ended it."

Draco beamed. "Good for you."

"Too bad I was so smitten by his dark hair and dreamy eyes at that time."

Draco wagged his eyebrows. "That was your first mistake. You should always pick your type."

"Oh?" Hermione said coyly. "And what is my type exactly?"

"The type who is smart, likes to read, and writes poems to you," he grinned. "Oh, and had blond hair and grey eyes of course."

"I will be on a look out for some one like that."

"I forgot a very important quality of course."

Hermione made eye contact with Draco, who was looking smug. "What?"

"He surprises you with flowers."

A dozen colourful daisies appeared in front of her. Some looked slightly squished, and a couple of them were slightly lop-sided.

But Hermione noticed none of these flaws. Well she did, but it made the flowers even better to her.

"They are lovely," She exclaimed.

"Freshly picked, all by myself." He added. "From my neighbour's."

"I can tell," she smiled. "Not the cliché roses?"

"Nah," He said, chuckling. "I figured these suited you more."

"Because they are cute and cheap?"

He chuckled again. "Something like that. Plus I happen to know your middle name is Daisy."

Her cheeks warmed. How did he know?

"Of course I know," he said, guessing from her expression. "I am Draco Malfoy with loads of Galleons. I am resourceful."

She took a sniff. They smelt like nothing. But the sentiment was sweet. It made them better than stupid roses.

"You like them." Draco looked pleased.

"Very much." She grabbed his hand from across the table. "Thank you."

Draco look at Hermione's hand and took it with his other hand.

"I think I like my gift better."

* * *

The night seemed too short. Where did the past three hours go? They had chatted, quibbered, had dessert and Draco even walked Hermione home. But time still seems to fly too fast.

They even talked about Narcissa. Hermione thought she should mention his mother's visit. And so she explained.

Draco looked thoughtful. "She's pretty intuitive. I guess I have to thank her for dropping some hints for me."

"Hints?" Hermione repeated. "She practically begged me to date you."

"Don't exaggerate." He rolled his eyes.

"I am not," Hermione smiled again. "She pretty much told me how you felt about me. Speaking of which, when did you started having all these lustful thoughts about me?"

"They were not lustful," He defended himself. "They were just highly graphic. Well as to your question, which time are you referring to?"

She froze. "You mean you liked me more than once?"

"Three times, to be exact."

"Three?" She was stunned.

"The first time was in first year at the train platform." He counted off his fingers.

"What?"

"I thought you looked pretty cute struggling with your trunk and ten piles of books. Of course, my affections pretty much died when I saw you stomping into Potter and Weasley's compartment."

"And then?"

"The second time was when you slapped me," Draco smiled. "It hurt a hell lot, but then I found myself repeating that particular scene in my mind quite often. Since I am not into masochism, I can only conclude that I had developed a crush on you then."

"The last time," he continued, "Was when I saw you for the first time in the very booth we were just at, reading your book and absorbed in your own world. It was then I knew that I had to cling onto you somehow and convince you to end my misery."

"Congratulations, you succeeded."

They were outside Hermione's home now. She tried to think of a way to delay the inevitable. It seemed like such a pity to let go of his warm comforting hands.

"Well," she told Draco awkwardly after running out of excuses. She motion to the building behind her using her bouquet of daisies. "This is my house."

"So this is the end of my first date." He stared at her mournfully. She laughed at his ridiculous expression.

"Did you enjoy it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes, too much almost," He grinned. "I am eager to go to our next one."

"Who said anything about a next date?" She teased, taking off her hat. Her hair was messy, but she didn't care. She couldn't be happier.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea you want to the moment you said 'Congratulations, you succeeded' to me."

"Fine. You caught me," Hermione confessed. "I would love to be your first and second date."

"And the third and fourth and all subsequent ones as well," Draco reminded her, tucking her hair behind her right ear.

That sounded _very _good to her.

"I will. As long as you want me."

"What if I always want you?"

"Then I will always be your date," she said sincerely, pulling him into a hug. It felt even better than his warm hands.. "Goodbye then, for now."

"Au revoir." He used a cheesy French nasal voice, bowing deeply. She smirked a little as she waved, remembering the little incident earlier on.

She turned and walked towards her flat with a few steps before stopping. Somehow it felt wrong to turn back now.

"Hermione?" Draco asked. His eyebrows were drawn together.

For a moment she couldn't answer. Something was missing. As if the date was… incomplete. She seemed to have forgotten something, only what?

She turned around to face Draco again.

He looked very handsome under the moonlight. Even better than Viktor or Zachary Smith.

He was too cute, she realized. Confused looking perhaps, but cute.

Suddenly she knew what to do. At a later date, she always joked that it was Draco's puppy dog expression which gave her the inspiration.

"What is it Hermione?"

She walked back to Draco who looked quizzical.

"I forgot something."

"What?" He asked.

"This." And tipping her toe slightly, she pressed her lips against Draco's mouth.

It felt good to have to not tip toe for someone way too tall. It felt right to kiss someone whose lips were slightly chapped but still so soft. It felt like a slice of heaven.

She broke the kiss and looked up to meet Draco's eyes. He gazed right back at her.

"I want more," he said, looking dazed and dazzled.

"I would kiss you again," she told him, slightly breathless, but couldn't resist adding. "But I wasn't impressed with the fact you suggested to bring me to McDonald's for our date." With that she flounced away, laughing.

He scowled.

Hermione discovered what was her type that night. Blond hair, grey eyes… And someone who gave her daisies instead of roses and wrote her poems.

And, well, she only knew one man who fit that description.

* * *

**Yep that's all I have folks. Thanks for your immense support which pushed me to write this chappie. I think I will be updating Over Coffee and Tea Leaves more often now because I fully intend to concentrate on finishing this story. **

**Well, there aren't a lot of chapters left though. Probably less than three. I did intend to make this fic short. **

**In the meantime, do support my Twilight fics which I have written (and will be writing). Haha that's because despite what I said in the early part of the author's note, I can't guarantee I wont go MIA again. **

**Last note: Review review review. They generally tend to encourage lazy fan fic authors A LOT. **


	9. Only Daisies

**The update didn't take as long as the last one. That's an improvement, right?**

**I know Draco has been the one appearing all magical and mysterious in the relationship, so I thought it would be fun to see Hermione do something Dracoish. Hence the inspiration behind this chapter.**

**  
Enjoy!**

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* * *

  
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No one tells you a lot of things.

No one for example, told Hermione Granger that she was going to oversleep today. No one told her that the darn doorbell was going to disturb her from her well earned rest on her big white bed. No one told her that she was going to open the door to one of the most pleasant surprise she received in years while wearing her tattered pink bathrobe and barefoot.

But all these happened, right now in her embarrassingly old bathrobe at the front door.

The delivery boy just grinned toothily at her. He was in an awfully good mood for someone who had to work at nine-thirty on a weekend.

"Miss Hermione Granger?" He asked, his gold foiled teeth showing.

"That's me," Hermione replied, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She wanted to go back to sleep, to that dream that she was enjoying.

"I 'ave a delivery for you."

The delivery boy then proceed to pull out a flower bouquet from behind and thrust it happily to a startled Hermione, overwhelming her with its monstrous size.

Her eyes popped a little. The boy chuckled. It didn't take much to guess her reaction.

"Overwhelmed?"

"Where do I sign?" she asked faintly. He handed over a receipt.

Hermione struggled to hold the ball point pen while balancing the horrifying large bouquet, but eventually she managed to draw a few zig zags at the signature line. The boy inspected her chicken scrawl and was satisfied, shoving the paper into his jean pocket.

"There is a card along with your delivery," he told her, chuckling, and then added, as if informing her of something special. "This is the first time I ever since such a request."

And then he handed her an envelope and gave a wave as he walked away from her apartment.

Still dazed, Hermione carried the flowers back into her apartment, almost forgetting to shut the door. She placed it on her bedside table, set it down and did the only thing she could—stare.

The bouquet was of a hideously large size. Overly large. But it wasn't its sheer monstrosity that amazed her and amused the delivery boy. No, plenty of rich man had probably bought out flowers stores just to please their girlfriends.

But this bouquet was made up of _every_ single flower she could name off her finger. A rose. A sunflower. An orchid. A orange tulip. Lavender. Daffodil. Baby's breath. One large lily. Even something she recalled as Birds of Paradise.

All in all, the bouquet was a very weird arrangement of big, tall, small and short flowers. The look did not mesh together at all. Hermione couldn't even use the word pretty to describe it. Odd. Unusual.

If Prudence were here, she would have called it hideous.

No wonder the delivery boy was smiling like that.

Who on earth would request for such a weird bouquet? One that is made up of every single flower on the planet… All the flowers except one.

Hermione tore open the envelope to reveal a white card. She smiled, comparing its stark clean lines to the funny flowers in front of her. She quickly flipped open the card.

A poem was written on one side. The other had a note.

_They say that roses are red_

_Some claim the violets are blue_

_Even with this knowledge I can't tell one from the other _

_Because all I can see is you, you, and _

_Only—_

_you._

Her heart skipped a little again and she tried to regain her composure. She told herself it was cheesy, it was bad poetry, that it was cliché. But her heart seemed to ignore all these flaws and only see how lovely this utterly childish poem was.

The other side of the card had a drawing. And beneath it Draco wrote the words.

_Because the real thing is you._

And on the top he drew a daisy.

This was the day Hermione Granger first discovered that Draco Malfoy was a romantic at heart.

* * *

Her second discovery was when she stepped into the Muggle supermarket that afternoon. A shopping list had been made an hour prior to this trip after she discovered that her depleting supply of Twizzlers was in fact, depleting. Hence her sudden visit to the supermarket.

She picked up some pastries in her shopping cart when her eye was caught by something which made her smile. A cherry pie.

Pausing, she replayed some of her earlier meet ups with Draco Malfoy inside her head. If she was not wrong, a cherry pie was included in one of them.

Yes, there was a cherry pie in his arms when she first spied Draco wearing that hideous pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She grinned uncontrollably at the memory. Only he of all people could look cute in it. Not even the hero with sello-taped glasses came near.

Determined not to day dream, she quickly walked away and got into the check out line. She didn't want anybody to see her stand at the bakery section like a blushing idiot.

Luckily it was a typical day in the supermarket, and no one was paying attention to her.

At the check out queue, she glanced, out of habit, at the advertising board to her right above the magazine stands. A nanny was needed. Somebody was selling his vacuum cleaner. Anyone who needed a flat could call the Joneses…

Her breath caught slightly as she saw a particular note.

There, pinned up among the other colourful flyers and advertisements, was a single notebook sized white paper. With a single, childishly drawn daisy in the middle of it.

It was signed _love, D.M. _

"Miss?"

Hermione returned her attention back to the cashier, distracted.

"Ready to check out?" The cashier asked kindly.

"Actually," Hermione replied, her cheeks warmed. "I just remembered I have to grab something."

And she dashed to the bakery section once again to grab the cherry pie.

* * *

They didn't make any plans for today, nor mentioned anything about getting together soon at all. In fact, their first date wasn't even planned, at least on Hermione's side. She had no idea when she was going to see Draco again.

But as she sat in the park that afternoon and she felt a hand on her shoulder, Hermione was certain it belonged to the man she was thinking of.

"Hello, Draco," she greeted without glancing at him.

"Second time you greeted me normally," The blond man commented. "How did you know it was me?"

Hermione looked at him. He had on his horn-rimmed glasses, the very one she was thinking about in the supermarket. And unsurprisingly it still brought flutters to her heart.

"I recognize its warm touch," she replied distractedly, hit by an inspiration. She quickly fished her spectacles out and put in on, no longer felt self-conscious in public with it on. Not with Draco anyway. "How do I look?" she asked coyly.

"You look good with those on. I told you before. Especially since you match me," Draco told Hermione, taking a seat beside her on the park bench. "Don't you want to know how I knew you were here?"

"I do know," Hermione said in a deadpanned voice. "You are stalking me."

"Ah, how true. And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"Simple. I have been receiving weird messages from every corner of Muggle London with a flower- "

"Daisy," Draco corrected. Only daisies.

"Daisies on it. Everywhere I go, it seems, I see it. Signed by the same lovesick fool."

"That's not called stalking," Draco said good-naturedly. "That's called devotion. And it does not mean I am following you. It simply means that I have stuck a number of notes in every bus stop, supermarket and phone booth in Muggle London."

Draco heard Hermione's breath catch.

"You couldn't simply call me to relay the message?" she asked.

Draco pretended to think over it.

"I could. But where is the romance and fun in it?"

Silly, romantic man.

"I must confess I enjoy it very much." Hermione said. "Although that being said, I have a gift of my own to give to you."

He raised his eyebrows, as he watched the bespectacled Hermione Granger pull out something from her shopping carrier. Two things actually.

"Cherry pie, my favourite," he commented.

"Well that answers the question I was pondering about. What was your favourite dessert, that is."

"You think about me?" He asked slyly, stealing a glance at her.

"Of course," she scoffed. "You are not the only one who can do romantic things. I also remember in one of our first run ins, you were carrying this exact sort of dessert and the both of us were wearing these spectacles."

Draco didn't respond; he was too busy staring at the other cleverly wrapped package Hermione passed to him.

"Open it," she told him, her pretty brown eyes wide.

He didn't catch her eye. Draco was too busy staring at his present.

"This is for me," he finally said.

"Is that a question or statement? Yes, it is for you."

He mulled over that fact for a while. "I haven't received a single tangible present since 5th Year."

"Well, take it as an accumulation of years worth of Christmas and birthday present."

"Thank you," he told her, breaking suddenly into a riotous grin.

"You haven't even open it yet," Hermione observed, pushing up her glasses a little. "Open it."

Still he didn't make a move.

"I can't bear to," Draco explained. "It's so… pretty." He gestured to the wrapper. It was light blue with cartoon Care Bears on it. Not the type Hermione pinned Draco would be a fan of, but she found this fact endearing. It made Draco somehow even cuter.

Still, the delay in opening his present was killing her.

"Draco, if you like the paper so much just stroll over to the nearest stationery shop down that street," She sighed, pointing towards the right of the park. "It cost seventy-nine pence only. Now open the stupid present before I murder you."

"Okay." A grin appeared on his face. And with steady fingers, Draco carefully pry open the wrapper according to the foldings. He couldn't risk tearing pink and purple bears on the paper.

And slowly, he pulled out a sleek rectangular box.

Draco thanked her.

"You don't even know what it is," she said bluntly, folding her arms.

He looked at his present.

"Of course I do," he said. With a pause, he added. "Besides, don't Muggles have a saying that goes, It's the thought that counts?"

"I knew it," Hermione grinned triumphantly, punching the air. "You don't know what is it."

"It has the same buttons as those on a telephone."

"That's because it is one."

"And this thing works?" He opened the box and pick up the palm-sized object.

"Of course it does!"

Draco looked amazed. "How on earth does it work without those wires?"

Hermione thought about explaining the power of satellites and network technology to him, but the answer seemed daft. She decided to settle for the simple answer. "Magic," she simply said.

Her romantic interest looked overly excited with his gift. "So how do you use it?"

She spent the next 15 minutes explaining it to him, showing him the charger, the card slot, and giving him the instruction manual.

"And to think you pride yourself with keeping up with the Muggle world," she teased. "And you don't even know what a cell phone is."

"They usually use something called Blackberry or iPhone," he frowned. "Why didn't you get me one of those?"

"Too common in London," Hermione answered, "Besides, those are really business type of phones. You didn't need one. I got you a Sony Ercisson instead."

"Oh. Do you have one?"

She pulled her own cell phone out. "It's the same as yours. It's a good trusty model."

"Same as yours," he repeated. "I like the idea of that. So what is your number?"

"Surely you can find a more suave move to get it?"

All the same, she told him her number. She watched as he slowly punched in the numbers and saved it.

"There," he said proudly declared. "My first ever contact. Hermione Granger."

"Yes." She smiled. "Now you can always contact me without doing the stalker-ish thing."

Just then, her own cell phone chirped. She excused herself and answered the phone without a glance at the screen.

"Hello?"

"Just testing the functions of my present, my lovely Daisy."

Sure enough, as she cocked her head back in the direction of the blond man, he had his ear pressed up to his mobile.

"You are sure a lot better than Ron," she snorted. "I almost went deaf on our first ever telephone conversation."

"Well your boyfriend isn't an idiot."

"Boyfriend?" She glanced at Draco.

He hung up the phone, looking at her rougishly. "What else would I be?"

"I don't know. My stalker whom I occasionally have tea with."

"I think I prefer the title 'boyfriend'."

"You never asked." Hermione retorted.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled her hands into his grasps.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Hermione?" Draco asked earnestly.

Her heart paced and then soared. He was asking her!

"Hmmm," she pretended to hesitate, tapping her finger against her chin. She told herself not to jump right at the delicious-looking man.

"Your reply wounds me."

"Oh it's not that. It just so happens that I am a more traditional person. No one goes steady after just one date, Draco."

Sulkily Draco asked, "Did Vicky had to go more than one date before asking you to be his girlfriend?"

"What?" Hermione blushed. How did he know about that?

"You heard me… Besides we have been on plenty of unofficial dates. Sufficient I should say. So please?"

Oh, he was too difficult to resist when he was looking at her like that with his grey eyes, sorrowful. Hermione berated herself silently for giving in so early. She broke into a sunny smile. "Okay, I will be your girlfriend."

"Certain?"

"Very."

"My girlfriend," he murmured contentedly, as if in deep thought. "I like the sound of that even more."

"And I like the sound of being Draco Malfoy's first ever girlfriend." _And last one_, she silently added.

"So if you are my girlfriend, I am entitled to some privileges am I?" He asked excitedly.

"A few I guess?" Hermione looked puzzled. She was clueless why Draco looked so eager.

"So I am allowed to kiss you?" He asked happily.

Ah, the penny dropped. Hermione smiled. "Yes."

"Can I kiss you now, Hermione?"

"You may, if you promise never to ask my permission again."

And then Draco Malfoy, blond man, Hogwarts Graduate, Slytherin Prefect and more recently, Hermione's lover, leaned forward and pressed his lips against the object of his affections.

He was however, unsuccessful in his task. Their thick glasses clinked together before he could touch her lips.

"Oops," Hermione commented. Her head hurt slightly from the accidental knock.

Draco looked amused. "Never mind," he said. "I remember Muggles also having the saying 'if you don't succeed, try, try again'." And then he bend a little to kiss her again, this time succeeded.

Said object of affections returned this gesture rather too enthusiastically, and when she pulled back she blushed.

"No need to be shy Hermione. I enjoyed that very much as well." Draco grinned and grabbed her hands.

"And where do we go from here?" She asked curiously. His hand engulfed hers tightly and gave a squeeze.

"Well, I suppose we go on more dates. And then some more. I will introduce you to my mother and friends, and you will introduce me to yours. And we will receive a lot of heckling. We will pretend to be embarrassed but secretly enjoy the attention. And then we will find that we don't care and carry on with more rendezvous. Everyone will get jealous, if they aren't already so."

"Sounds like a plan to me," she smiled, tweaking his nose.

"All part of my seven step plan to seduce you," Draco answered, his eyes gleaming. "And it looks like I succeeded too."

Hermione let out an unladylike snort, squinting her eyes slightly when the light hit her glass lenses at an angle. "I expected so," she said, frowning. "Come to think of it, even in school you were always so meticulous and organized. I heard from Blaise you practically sorted your notes in alphabetical order."

"You are hearing from an unreliable source Hermione. I sorted them by subjects before sorting them to topics and then finally A to Z."

"That makes you worse," She said bluntly, but broke into a heartbreaking grin. "Don't worry. I don't think you are anal. Besides… I colour coded my notes."

"Good. It's a bit too late for you to realize my uptight ways now, anyway. How are Prudence and Blaise getting on?"

"Rather overzealously. Prue can't even bare to leave Blaise alone for fifteen minutes so she could have tea with me, But of course, this is part of your masterplan, isn't it?

The brunette grinned again, and Draco took a second to admire the honey streaks in her curly hair as the sunlight hit it. He almost stopped himself, but realized he now had the good fortune of staring at her shamelessly and openly. Which he did.

"I take credit for that. I plan most of that of course. In fact I plan almost everything… Including our courtship."

Hermione looked at him, eyes widening. "You planned our relationship?"

"I did not plan to become bewitched by you of course, although I dare say that was of the finest things that happened. That part wasn't planned. But even I have to admit, most of the courtship and our reaccquaintance were part of my wise plotting and scheming ways."

Hermione glanced at Draco. "Oh?"

"You didn't honestly think that I just happened to pop by when Narcissus/Harvey took you out on a date did you? Or that I happen to met you coincidentally so many times on the street."

"I did." She glared at him. "Stalker," she accused.

"Wounded lover, you mean." He chuckled. "Besides, I was desperate to see you again, after seeing you that day reading that book with butterfly clips in your hair."

"So all those fateful meetings weren't coincidences."

"Not really. But I had to find an excuse to see you again didn't I?" Draco told her proudly. She gave him a slight slap on his hand.

"And that day in the park?"

"A finely engineered meeting."

"So it wasn't really fate that threw us in the same paths?" She sighed. "That would have been more romantic. Serendipity and all."

Draco smiled. "Look at it this way. If a boy keeps arranging meet ups and desperately manufactures coincidences just so to surprise the girl, pops up whenever she least expects him, turns up when she needs him and pursues her in a very merry-go-round old-fashioned manner…Isn't that the kind of guy worth keeping?"

She beamed as she said softly. "Yes, he is."

"So treasure me well."

"I should have known this is some roundabout way to compliment yourself." She said laughingly, tossing her head a little. "Although I'm glad that some of your 'coincidences' didn't go quite as well as planned?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. With his trenchcoat on he looked like a detective. "Like?" he inquired.

"Oh, our date for one." She smiled. "And the time I wore my glasses. I'm pretty sure those were accidents."

He scowled. "Don't remind me of that."

"But it turned out for the better didn't it? So you see, my darling Malfoy, things don't always go as well as you planned. There is an element of surprise, even for you."

He didn't like to concede defeat. "On very rare occasions."

"On very rare occasions," She agreed, patting his knee. "And I admit, I think it is more romantic picturing you trying to scheme and plot in order to have a date with me. But watch out though."

"Watch out?"

"Yes, watch out," Hermione repeated. "Because one day the element of surprise will come and bite you."

"I will be on my guard."

"Or perhaps," she said mischieviously. "It will be a manufactured one on my part."

Draco almost didn't catch that statement. He was too busy planting a kiss on his girlfriend's cherry coloured lips.

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke up on Sunday from the loud chirp emitted by his cell phone. Spending a few minutes trying to navigate the functions, Draco finally managed to open his inbox, where he received his first ever text from Hermione Granger.

And the message was very odd.

_Go down and buy a National Geographic._

No smiley faces or kisses at the back. He had to have the most clear-headed girlfriend ever. Not that he would change her for anything.

Two hours later he strolled to the aisle of the supermarket, holding a bar of Mars Bars and a Coke in hand. The magazine stand was right there, and the tell-tale yellow cover a particular magazine told him that that was the National Gepgraphic he was seeking.

As he reached to grabbed a copy, he noticed his own little daisy picture pinned on the corkboard above the magazine rack. He grinned, admiring his handiwork. It took him a long time to manually stick these all around London, but the results were worth it.

His eyes glanced at his cheerful drawing down to the note below it.

"Sir! Don't you want your purchases?" The cashier called out. But Draco had already ran out of the supermarket.

He dashed to the nearest bus stop. And then to the news agent two blocks down. And then to another supermarket. And then he realized Hermione had done it. She had given him his surprise.

She had pasted three thousand nine hundred and eighty two pieces of white paper under the three thousand nine hundred and eighty two he had written to her all over London. And on each of the white paper, she drew a big red hat and wrote _You bewitched me as well._

She signed her note as _love always, HG. _And best of all, Hermione Granger drew a little daisy in the middle of her name.

* * *

**There you go. So now you know their cutesy meetings aren't exactly unplanned or coincidences. If you reread the story, you can probably catch a few hints now and there. I hope this makes my story summary where Draco has a line "You seem to believe entirely too much in coincidence" makes more sense now.**

**This is the ending…sort of. I mean, this story basically is supposed to explore their relationship and its budding. But don't worry, There are probably 2-3 subsequent chapters, except there are more like epilogues.**

**As always, I would like to plead all my readers to review! **


	10. Parents and Best Friends

**Yes an update. Shorter than most of my other chapters(but I hope its sweet!). My orginal plan was to have Hermione and Draco meet their parents relatives and best friends and span across three chappies but I realized it will look kind of repetitive. So howda! I condensed it into one. **

**Therefore this is the last chapter, followed by an epilogue. **

**Thanks for supporting this story throughout the horribly long time I took to write it!**

**Enjoy.  
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Two months passed rather too quickly, at a pace mysteriously matching that of a Firebolt. Hermione informed Draco of her suspicions that he had engaged some form of time charm, but her boyfriend only laughed at her.

"Maybe time just flies when you are with me," he teased her one afternoon on their dates (which, unsurprisingly, took place at a library), pulling one of her curls.

She snorted and swatted his hands away from her bushy hair. He ignored the gesture and continued tugging on her hair.

"Or," he continued, "Perhaps it's because you know that the whole meet-the-parents session is getting imminent."

She looked up from an abused-looking copy of The Canterbury Tales. "We only dated for two months… Don't you think that is a little too fast?" She asked him.

"Nope." He popped the 'p'. "We have known each other since we were ten. That's more than a decade of knowing each other."

This time Hermione laughed, earning herself a look of disapproval from the senior librarian. "The vocabulary you used on me at that period wasn't exactly flattering."

Draco conceded that, but grinned. "It's okay. Even without Hogwarts we have been flirting with each other shamelessly for months. That negates our short period of dating."

She shrugged. "If you say so."

"Scared Granger? Of the whole parents thing?"

Hermione closed her book and look at Draco, her expression a bit too smug. "I don't think that's it. After all, I already met your mother. We will get along like a house on fire."

He chuckled. "Not officially."

"Well I look forward to meeting her again," Hermione told him earnestly before smirking. "Although honestly, I think you really should be the one worrying."

"What do I have to worry about?" Draco asked, amused. "I'm perfectly charming when I need to be. They will love me."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. They think that I'm dating a fifty year old married man," she smiled, remembering her last gathering with her relatives.

Draco let out an expletive.

"Exactly," Hermione winked. "And you haven't even met Ron and Harry yet."

* * *

Although she had met Narcissa Malfoy before, Hermione Granger was nevertheless relieved when Draco informed her that Blaise and Prudence will be joining them as well. She hoped their presence would mean lesser probing and provide the necessary lightheartedness required for this social visit.

She wasn't exactly lying to Draco when she told him she wasn't nervous as all, but still, Hermione Granger couldn't help but be intimidated by the size of the Malfoy mansion when Draco happily (and obliviously) brought her to home.

And it made her nervous.

"You never told me your house is so big," she hissed at Draco, taking it the numerous paintings (she was sure one of them was a true Renoir) and huge great hall.

His eyes glittered.

"Scared now?"

"Obviously, I am overwhelmed by the sheer size of what you call 'home sweet home'. Thank you for preparing me for this experience," She said sarcastically. When she had asked Draco what his childhood home was like, he had simply told her that 'comfortable enough'.

Comfortable enough indeed. It was a mansion for goodness sake.

"I will protect you," He whispered into her ear before kissing her forehead, taking her hand and pulling her into a sitting room where his mother was daintily drinking a cup of tea.

Narcissa Malfoy stood up and greeted the couple affectionately, not missing her son's entwined hand with Hermione's. She was pleased, though she wisely chose not to comment( not yet anyway) and instead motioned them to the couch.

As the couple took time to settle down, Narcissa took the opportunity to observe her son. The last two months certainly did wonders to him. Relationships suited Draco well, if the way his eyes sparkled was any testament to that. He was ebullient, and she certainly did not miss the loving manner which he placed his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder.

She was on the verge of bursting with joy.

"Hermione," Narcissa beamed. "It is a pleasure to meet you. A cup of tea?" A corner of her mouth twitched. "Or perhaps you prefer coffee."

"Coffee thanks," Hermione told her politely, her initial fear now gone. She was calm as long as she didn't stare at the Monet painting behind Draco's mother. "I suppose Draco told you about my preference."

"He did," Narcissa affirmed, smiling. "And he reminded me quite thoroughly, to tell you the truth."

"Mother," Draco interrupted laughingly. "Don't embarrass me. I have an image to uphold. "

"Not a chance," his mother said smugly, waving to a bunch of books on the table. "I took out all your baby photos."

"Mother!" Real panic now.

"Don't worry," Hermione laughed. "I don't think it could be as bad as that terrible hairstyle you had in fifth year."

"The gelled look was in then!"

"Well it gave you the look of a receding hairline."

A loud voice floated into the room. "Are you talking about Draco in fifth year? I remembered that!"

Hermione shot Draco a smug look.

"Blaise," he scowled. "You are supposed to be my best friend. Support me a little."

"We only tell the complete truth," Prudence said deadpanned as she floated into the room.

Blaise and Prudence took a longer time to established their relationship than Draco and Hermione had. But once Prue conveniently forgot her previous hatred fort the devilishly handsome wizard, there was no denying that they fitted well together. True, the redhead often lost her temper and they certainly disagreed a great deal, but Blaise's good nature eventually often prevailed. They made a great couple.

On the other hand, Hermione and Draco seldom disagreed. They didn't argue much and certainly weren't as showy as their friends. Their quarrels never ended in stormy tears and there were certainly no grand gestures like publishing a front page apology on the Daily Prophet like Blaise had done.

In short, Blaise and Prudence had the volatile, whirlwind dramatic relationship one often fantasized for. Hermione and Draco's on the other hand did not have the epic Titanic love story.

Once upon a time Hermione Granger would be jealous. But right now she would most certainly rather have her 'vanilla' relationship than anything else in the world, if it was with her steady, loving Draco.

Their relationship may be subtle, but it was strong and steady and Hermione didn't need the drama to show her that she was in love with Draco.

They simply knew.

"What are you thinking?" Draco asked her quietly, nudging Hermione back to the present. Prue and Blaise were having some animated conversation with Narcissa.

"About how much I love you," she whispered, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

* * *

When they visited Narcissa both Hermione and Draco had been collected and calm. When it came to the visit to Hermione's relatives though, it was another story.

"So Emily is your cousin and a lawyer," Draco recited as they walked towards 2 Pinewood Lane. "And Aunt Clementine…" He looked over a scribbled paper. "has a daughter named Allison who is engaged to the most boring man in the world."

"Draco," Hermione sighed. She placed a hand over his. "Relax a little. They are probably not going to like you anyway."

"That is comforting."

"Just act naturally," Hermione told him, unable to hide a smile. "In fact it probably would be more entertaining if it were a disaster."

"Natural huh?" He murmured as they rang the doorbell. "I can do that." He said with a cheeky grin. "So no good luck kiss?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but pressed her lips to his. She gasped as Draco deepened it, but made no move to stop.

When it was over, they found a middle-aged woman staring at them open-mouthed at the doorframe.

"Couldn't resist it for another moment madam," He said solemnly and bowed. "You must be Polly."

* * *

Five minutes later, Hermione found herself sitting in the same setting as she did one morning a few months ago, her nosy relatives around her. Only this time, she had a boyfriend next to her.

She tried not to smirk as she heard her cousins hissed 'he's not fifty!' to each other. Draco must have heard it, because his smirk was even more pronounced than hers.

"So tell me," Aunt Clementine finally asked, her curiosity so evident in her widening eyes. "How did you meet Hermione?"

"Well," Draco said innocently. "She was sitting on the train acting like a bossy know-it-all and before that I was fighting with her two best friends. We spend most of our acquaintanceship hurling verbal and physical abuse at each other."

Aunt Clementine looked lost for words. Draco smiled and offered Hermione's parents butter biscuits. Gloria, Hermione's favourite aunt, winked at her.

"Draco isn't a very common name is it?" Aunt Polly enquired.

"It isn't. Our family tree has all its descendents named after a star or constellation."

"Old family then," Aunt Polly said nodding approvingly. Means old money. "And your occupation?"

"A trader of sorts," Draco shrugged, buttering his toast. "You know us old money, we usually just fritter our money away."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see her dad trying not to laugh. Of course he would. They already knew Draco from all the exploits she described these few months.

She tried to muster a frown apropos, but failed.

"How about education then?" Aunt Polly started again, determined to find something good in this mischievous boyfriend of her niece.

"Well," he pondered. "I didn't exactly finish my education. Sort of drop out. But no worries," he whispered conspiratorially. "It took me only one year to convince them and buy my way back in."

A teacup dropped, clanging loudly against the table.

Later, as Hermione helped clear the dishes in the kitchen, Aunt Gloria winked at her again.

"This one is a keeper."

Hermione beamed, beatific. "I think so too."

* * *

Barely a week following the success of their visits, Draco Malfoy was sure that his luck had ran out.

"You were the one who convinced me to let you meet Harry and Ron," Hermione reminded him, absently using her wand to tidy up her house.

"I know," He gritted his teeth, pacing across the room. "Well it's only fair isn't it? You met Prue and Blaise. I think it is only appropriate I meet your two closest friends."

"I'm glad you care enough to meet them," she said simply.

"If they don't murder me first," Draco shuddered. "You don't suppose that they remember the Norbert incident in Year One?"

"This is Ron we are talking about," Hermione stated, arranging the daisies in her vase. "Of course he remembers."

"Darn."

At that exact same moment the doorbell rang. Draco jumped. His face was as pale as a sheet.

Hermione tried to reassure him. "I'm sure it will be—"

"Hermione if you don't open the door now I'm gonna burn it down!" A voice from outside, suspiciously like Harry's, called out.

She rolled her eyes and swung the door open.

Three people stood outside. Ginny looked fantastic in her cream-coloured dress. Harry grimaced. Ron had an expression on his face Hermione had no patience to decipher.

"Harry! Ron! Ginny!" She cried, hugging Ginny fiercely. "Come on in!"

Ginny smiled brightly as she stepped inside. "I brought some of my mum's cookies!"

"Perfect!"

Harry cleared his throat. "It's good to see you."

The five of them stood awkwardly at the living room. Hermione decided to break the silence.

"Guys, this is Draco Malfoy, as you all know."

Draco seemed to snapped out of his stupor then.

"It is nice to see you," he greeted, smiling as wide as he could.

Ginny grinned back. Harry nodded and mumbled a "me too". Ron was still busy staring at the vase.

"So he bought you daisies," Ron snorted, folding his arms. "How cliché."

"Well," Draco said nervously. Hermione interrupted.

"I bought them myself. Why don't we all take a seat and make ourselves comfortable? Ginny, would you help me make tea?"

"Sure!" She chirped, hooking Hermione's arms. "Let the boys hash it out first. What do you guys want?"

"Coffee please," Draco stammered.

"Anything."

"Dragon's Blood," Ron spat out, glaring at Malfoy. He jumped.

And with that both girl disappeared into the kitchen. Harry and Ron move mechanically to the couch. Draco took a seat opposite them, feeling very much like he was in the Spanish Inquisition.

"Harry, Ron," he started. "I suppose you know that I am currently dating Hermione."

"Yes," Harry said stiffly, pushing up his glasses. Ron looked at him coldly.

This was not going very well, Draco thought to himself. Not well at all.

"I hope you guys won't mind that."

Harry shrugged. Ron looked furious.

"Is that your tie on the coffee table?" He demanded.

It was. Hermione laughed at him when he turned up with a bad Windsor knot and told him not to be such a nerd.

"So you are moving in with our best friend now huh??" He yelled. "What's the point of seeking our approval then?"

"I am sorry," Draco mumbled.

"You should be, you sick bastard," Ron continued angrily while Harry nodded frantically. "What if we don't give you our permission?"

He was silent.

"Answer me!"

Draco looked up, determined. "Of course it would be preferable if you like me. And I apologise for the tricks and stunts I pulled in Hogwarts. But I like Hermione, and I want to make her happy. So if she is willing to date me, nothing will stop me from giving her that."

Harry spoke. "And what if we still do not approve?"

"I would spend the rest of my life trying to bribe, wheedle, plead and beg you."

Harry grinned. "Good answer."

Draco looked at Ron hopefully.

"Ron?" He asked hesitantly. The red head took a moment to answer.

"You mentioned bribing," Ron finally said. "Does this mean you can get me prime tickets to the Chudley Cannons match next month?"

Draco's eyes popped. Ron and Harry burst into laughter.

"Sorry mate," Harry chortled. "Couldn't resist making you sweat a little. But your expression when Ron yelled at you was priceless."

"The scary look was just an act?" Draco asked disbelievingly.

"A small price to pay for the years of torment. Besides, we always have the upperhand."

The blond man was speechless.

"Oh look," Ron chuckled. "We startled Malfoy into silence. Come on, we are not such petty people. As long as Hermione is happy we are cool about it."

"I won't hurt her," Draco solemnly vowed, relieved.

"You sure won't 'cause then you will have us to answer to," Harry said cheerfully, but Draco noted the seriousness in the voice.

"I will make her happy."

"Good," Ron grinned (a three hundred and sixty degrees change from his demeanor earlier). "So are the Chudley Cannon tickets still up for a greater cause?"

They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and reminiscing about old times. Draco was oddly comfortable with them. As he bade them goodbye, Ginny even invited him to the next Weasley Sunday brunch.

Hermione sighed and sank into Draco arms as they watched their friends trot out of her apartment. "Now it is all over."

"What a relief."

She laughed and hugged him. "It is," she agreed.

"But it is not all over, you know," Draco said, fiddling with her hair.

"Oh?"

"Nope, it is only just the beginning," He grinned, earning him a punch on the shoulder from Hermione. She quirked her eyebrow.

"That's for the cheesy line."

"Ouch." He mock winced. "But Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She smiled. "I know. And I love you too."

Draco chuckled and bent down to kiss his little girlfriend. She sighed.

"What now?" She said blissfully.

"Oh you know how the poem goes," He smiled. "First comes love, then comes marriage…"

* * *

**I can't believe I'm winding this story down. It was a pleasure to write it, and I thank all my faithful readers who supported me the whole time. This chapter is especially dedicated to you.**

**I did say that I would write an epilogue, but I'm not sure if it would spoil the rest of the story. But I do say that reviews are a very very good incentive if you do want an epilogue…**


	11. The Epilogue

**A very short epilogue to conclude this story. And I do mean it when I say it's short. But I didn't want it dragging along till it becomes a full chapter. So Without further ado:**

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**Epilogue – Two Years Later**

"Knock, knock."

Hermione looked from her knitting. Since her S.P.E.W days in Hogwarts she had picked up this muggle hobby of clicking the needles and found it strangely therapeutic. Over the years she had progressed on from misshapened socks to more ambitious pieces, like sweaters and coats. Right now, she was working on a smaller project though—a piece of afghan. Something that meant a lot to her.

The voice was a pleasant distraction though. It did mean one thing:

Draco had returned home.

She felt a familiar flutter in her heart. Would this ever stop?

Hermione made movement to stand up and greet him, but as usual he beat her to it. Before she could even manage to lift herself off the sofa Draco was already there, perched next to her. Within a short span of a second he had somehow end up by her side, curled on the couch with her.

He grinned unapologetically at Hermione.

When he first started this routine Hermione felt a mild irritation with him for smothering her unneccessarily. Now, she had learned to accept his overprotective, albeit adorable, ways and move on from her stubborn independence. Instead, she merely took his rough hand and entwined it with her own.

Draco was less subtle in his gesture and affections. The blond man leaned forward boldly, as if unsatisfied with her mild response. She complied and leaned in to softly peck his lips.

"Hello, lover," she whispered in his ear.

"Hello, darling," Draco greeted, unable to keep the smugness of his face. She knew as well as he did that _he _enjoyed such terms of endearment. "Hello, beloved," he addressed her again. His words sent shivers down her spine.

She put away her knitting temporarily. "Good day at work?"

"It was fine," he replied, smiling. He gave her hand a squeeze. "I bought you something."

Hermione didn't even look at the slim volume he produced proudly. She instantly knew what it was.

"Again?"

He grinned. "Another wouldn't hurt."

"Another one?"

And here I was, thinking you liked books."

She tweaked his handsome nose. "I do. But isn't it a little outrageous to be buying so many similar ones?"

"I'm a Malfoy," he explained, sniffing. "I can afford it."

He handed her Hermione the book, and she glanced at it obediently. She flipped a few pages before snorting as her eyes landed on the content page. Draco frowned.

"What? The witch at Flourish and Botts said this was one of their bestselling copies!" He exclaimed, offended.

Hermione laughed. "Draco, this may sound entirely shocking to you, but I do believe that ninety-seven percent of this has about the same content as the book you bought yesterday. And the other one the week before."

He defended himself from the merry brunette. "But it's the different three percent that counts right?"

"Somehow, I don't think _Popular Wizarding Baby Names of the Modern Age _will provide us with something insightful than the rest."

Draco gazed at her tenderly and kissed her stomach softly. "Well, we won't take that risk with our baby, would we? Only the best for our boy here."

Hermione's hand dropped down to her stomach where Draco was currently small circles with his finger. A boy, she thought in wonder. They were expecting _a baby boy._

This child of theirs came knocking unexpectedly seven months ago. Hermione had simply been chewing on a bacon sandwich when suddenly she felt a wave of nausea. The nausea (or food poisoning she had misinterpreted) lasted for several days before Draco excitedly solved the mystery by bringing home a Muggle pregnancy kit. A visit to the Healer a day later confirmed the results: Hermione was indeed pregnant.

How Draco ever had such suspicions in the first place though, was beyond her. It had even slipped the notice of someone as sharp as her. But nevertheless parenthood was something Hermione, and more so Draco, looked forward to.

No other father-to-be could be as excited as Draco. His enthusiasm was the reason why so many pregnancy books were in the bookshelves, why he willingly got up at the dead of night to prepare chicken fettucini for Hermione, and why they spent many weekends shopping for baby items. Bless him, he even attended prenatal classes with her like a devout!

"At least we know that it has to be a male name," Hermione said as Draco patted her tummy.

This was the part where Muggles had an edge over the Wizarding community. No spell could tell the gender of the baby, but a Muggle ultrasound could. When Draco found out about this, he excitedly dragged Hermione to book a session in a Muggle hospital.

He chuckled. "A pity Mrs Weasley didn't know about this kind of stuff. Otherwise she could have the girl she wanted earlier, and suffer less disappointment from the likes of six boy Weasleys."

"Don't let Ron hear you," she warned. He chuckled again.

"Besides, these books aren't really necessarily. Isn't it in the Black tradition to name their children something complicated or a star constellation?"

"Astronomically related," he corrected, as Hermione rested against his chest. "Tradition or not, I would like to name the child something we want. Not because of rules whatnot."

Hermione's eyes landed on one of the pages of the new book. "So what if I decided that I really really want to name our son Archibald Uther-Carlos?" She asked teasingly.

"Then we will really really name our son Archibald Uther-Carlos Malfoy."

She grinned. "Good thing I have better sense than that then."

"Good thing." He enveloped her into his arms. She sighed as she relaxed to enjoy the warmth.

"You better enjoy this as much as you can," she informed him sadly. "Pretty soon I'm probably can't fit into your arms again."

"I have long arms."

"I'm growing fat am I?" Hermione sighed, pushing him away slightly. "Tell me the truth. I'm as big as a whale!"

Draco smiled. "You are glowing, Hermione. You look radiant." He open his arms to welcome her back into it. She resisted.

"A radiant whale."

As if he can't bear to be away from Hermione any longer, Draco kissed her and pulled her into his embrace again. Hermione was flushed pink by the time he manage to detach his lips away from her. She blamed it on her hormones.

"Darling, you couldn't possibly look more beautiful than you do right now," he said earnestly. "In fact, I'm considering letting you be permanently pregnant."

"And how could you possibly do that?"

He smiled wickedly. "Why, you have to bear many of my babies of course. Well, I probably give you a few months break in between so we could squeeze in a wedding. Because despite what you say, I am going to make an honest woman out of you."

She pinched him lightly.

The carriage came before the marriage for the couple. Technically speaking, Hermione wasn't even engaged to Draco yet, although he had intended to propose to her. But the baby arrived before he had a chance to pop the question, and Hermione stubbornly insisted that she didn't want to marry with a belly protruding out of her white dress, a decision that made both Narcissa and her parents appalled. But she was adamant about it, and none of them could change her decision.

Besides, she loved him. She thought that meant much more than any official documentation.

Narcissa was horrified when she realized that Draco had given in to Hermione's wishes, even if only temporary (although privately Draco assured her that he fully intended to propose after Hermione gave birth). Narcissa Malfoy spent her months oscillating between moaning that she could not plan the grand grand wedding she wanted to throw for them and cooing over her beloved soon-to-be grandchild.

In the meantime, Hermione would be free from the wedding stress and just be contented in Draco's arms.

"How many children do you want, Draco?"

"How many do you want, Hermione?"

She pouted. "I asked first."

He grinned. "I wasn't kidding when I say that you are going to be carrying as many of my babies as possible."

Her eyes became round. He rubbed her stomach again.

"Well," Draco said thoughtfully. "I grew up as an only child and though I do cherish the freedom, there are times where I can't help but feel… lonely. I would definitely want a big family with you, Hermione. I like kids."

"You have a number in mind?" she said, reading his expression.

"I _really_ like seeing you pregnant with my child Hermione," he said carefully.

"…Meaning?"

"I don't have an exact one. But," he said. "I wouldn't be opposed to trying to up the number of Molly Weasley's flock."

"Seven!"

"More if possible." He smiled. "But it also depends on how many you want. So how many do you want Hermione?"

She sat silently for a minute, and decided to go for the truth.

"As many as I can give you."

"That is a good answer," Draco smiled, dropping the book onto the coffee table. "For that, I will even forgive you for listening to Prudence's bad advice and pulling the am-I-fat? line just now. I hope she just stop hanging around our lovely home soon. Where is she anyway?"

A protesting voice came from the kitchen where Hermione nodded, and a pouting redhead came storming out.

"To think I was nice enough to give you two ten minutes of privacy and snogging time. And this is how you repay me?" She frowned.

Prudence was as redheaded and fiery as ever. Nothing about her had changed, apart from her last name.

Draco pulled apart from Hermione grudgingly, and shot a look at his friend.

"It wasn't totally privacy if you could hear me. Besides, I still would have display affections for my girlfriend regardless of your presence… Or any irritating advice you offer her."

"I was teaching her how to handle a man." Prudence nodded briskly.

"Funny. I was at your mansion a couple hours ago telling your husband how to handle a woman like you," Draco snorted. Hermione gave him a warning look as she spied a glower on the redhead's face.

Prudence and Blaise were married less than eight months after the initial courtship. It was a hasty but certain affair. Blaise had looked at the redhead during lunch and told her that he was going marry her. Prudence simply looked back and steadily said, "Okay.". Less than three days later, they were Mr and Mrs Zabini.

Unlike Draco and Hermione, they were always bickering and disagreeing. Something about their the dynamics of their marriage made them behave like two teenagers No one can say that they didn't love each other though, despite their many fights. Because they did. They were just extremely dramatic and Shakespearean about it. As in Benedict and Beatrice style.

It was funny how despite the fact that the pair had consummate their relationship legally first, it was also them who continued to behave like a honeymoon couple, even until now. Whereas Hermione and Draco were the unmarried ones behaving like an old couple.

Draco continued in a mild manner. "Speaking of which, when would you finally stop camping out in my house and go home?"

Prudence flicked her hair. "When he apologises first."

Hermione looked at her friend and sighed "I hardly think that him forgetting to buy broom polish would cause someone to move out of their house for the tenth time."

The corners of Prue's lips twitched. "It isn't… But it makes our marriage a lot more interesting." With that, she flounced back into the kitchen. "I'm going to make tea." She announced.

Draco patted Hermione comfortingly. "Don't let it distress you, darling. We all know that Blaise is going to turn up any minute. He can't bear a night without her."

"T'is true."

"And when he does," he continued in a whisper, wrapping his arms around her. "We are going to carry out more activities involving you and many more bellies swelling with babies."

Hermione blushed. She didn't even give hormones as an excuse this time. "I hope your biology is good enough so that you know I can't get pregnant with another one right now."

"I know," he winked seductively, kissing Hermione's neck. "But practice always makes perfect, don't you think? You know, for future purposes..."

"That does make sense…" Hermione murmured.

"Of course it does," Draco kissed her.

"The moment Blaise picks her up," she decided.

"The very moment," he agreed.

"Get a room!" Prudence hollered from the kitchen.

But neither of them were paying attention to their friend anymore. They were too wrapped up in each other, in their world and love nest to care about anything else.

They were perfectly blissful, the three of them. Him, Hermione and their son definitely not named Archibald Uther-Carlos.

* * *

**There you go. The epilogue of Over Tea Leaves and Coffee is finally done. The story has finally ended.**

**And of course, Hermione and Draco's son will be named Scorpius. **

**I'm extremely thankful to my reviewers out there. Thank you for sticking around for this story, even though it took me a god damn long time to write. Two years to finish such a story is definitely too long a time, and I apologise for that.**

**This chapter is definitely dedicated to all my wonderful readers who forgave me for my porcastination and sticked around for the ride. Thank you again and again!**


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